


The Soliloquist

by quiescentcas



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Canon-Typical Violence, Community: deancasbigbang, Dean/Cas Big Bang Challenge 2016, F/F, F/M, John Winchester's A+ Parenting, M/M, Mild Language, Near Drowning Experience(s), unresolved/unhappy ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-26
Updated: 2016-10-26
Packaged: 2018-08-27 01:23:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 42,682
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8382487
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quiescentcas/pseuds/quiescentcas
Summary: Dean is convinced he’s just an ordinary guy, living an ordinary life. He’ll admit, he’s been lucky; he has a loving mother, father, and his younger brother is a successful lawyer. Dean himself is a mechanical engineer working for Chevrolet, and he lives alone in a house by a lake. But when his life is threatened and he is transported to a parallel Earth by a creature he’s never even heard of, everything changes. Now Dean must find his way through this dangerous and magical world by the side of a far more dangerous and magical companion in order to save both Earths from a plot to release great evil.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> First DCBB done!  
> Big thank you to my amazing artist, [thegoblinjester](http://archiveofourown.org/users/TheGoblinJester/pseuds/TheGoblinJester) for creating some beautiful pieces [here](http://thegoblinjester.livejournal.com/791.html). It was loads of fun seeing what you'd come up with, and I really appreciate all the work you put into this!  
> Also, thank you to my betas, [padaleckhi](http://archiveofourown.org/users/elevensong/pseuds/padaleckhi) and [delicious-irony](http://archiveofourown.org/users/deliciousirony/pseuds/delicious-irony), who, even though they are doing both writing and art for this challenge, took time to help me out and read my story. You guys are awesome!

_Castiel arrived not a moment too soon, and he was gone in the twinkling of an eye. In fact, he didn’t even generate a corporeal form; he only appeared as a flash of light, averted a minor catastrophe, blinded his mark temporarily, and disappeared, all within the span of a second._

 

It was a Saturday, and Dean Winchester was driving when it happened. It hadn’t been the only weird thing to happen to him that week, nor was it even remotely the weirdest thing that would happen to him ever, but it was certainly well up there in the order of strange shit.

He had began that week at his job at the Chevrolet plant in Detroit, Michigan, where he worked as a mechanical engineer, designing the newest and strongest engines. The one that currently lay in front of him was a final prototype, ready to be manufactured and distributed worldwide. It was running, suspended in front of Dean and the team that he’d worked with to produce it.     

“Man, that thing is purring!” Dean exclaimed. “Good work, guys!”

He and his fellow co-workers began high fiving and congratulating each other as the pistons continued to pump fluidly. They were allowed a little celebration after all the hard work they had put in.

Dean was walking through the crowd when he came face to face with a cute, blonde girl. He winked and raised his hand, grinning. She rolled her eyes, but after a second cracked a smile and high-fived him. His face then became more serious and he leaned in closer to her.

“Hey, thanks, Jo. You know, for not cutting too much back on the sound,” Dean whispered, “I know you could’ve made the engine ninja-silent but, I mean, that would take out all the fun.” The corner of his mouth twitched.

“You’re welcome,” she replied, her voice equally hushed. “I told them that we had to move a few things around for efficiency, and with the new configuration this was as quiet as I could get it, but I’m not entirely sure they believed me. And for the record, I do agree with you. But you owe me, ok?”

“Sure, I’ll buy you a drink sometime and we can lament the direction the modern car is taking trying to please new age hippies like my brother,” Dean laughed, straightening.

“I’m serious, Dean,” Jo said. “I won’t be able to do this again.”

Dean sighed. “I know. I appreciate it.” He slowly began to move back towards the engine that was rumbling away, Jo keeping pace with him. It was a beautiful concept, no one could deny, with all the parts fitting together and all the pieces working in tandem. They both stared at the engine for a moment in awe of the calm, methodical peacefulness that such a powerful machine could have, until a slight ping echoed throughout the valves.

Jo frowned, flicking her eyes first to Dean then back to the engine.

“Did you hear that?” she asked.

Dean shook his head, and Jo stepped closer to their moving machinery, circling around it to see what had happened. She had gone around a quarter of the way, and Dean was just about to tell her that it probably was someone’s phone, when there was a larger _clunk_ and a two inch chunk of the engine was flung out directly at Dean’s head.

For a second, time froze.

When he’d tell the story later on, Dean would swear that he saw the small cube of metal hover right in front of his face like a bullet with his name on it. But at the time, the metallic blur was nothing compared to the instantaneous flash of searing white light that blazed straight through to the back of Dean’s eyeballs. Had anyone blinked, they would’ve missed the whole event and would’ve only heard the piece of engine clutter to the floor and come to a sliding stop after bouncing off the back wall. It had not, as Dean had expected, splattered his brains over his coworkers behind him, but had instead been diverted as though it had hit a force field around him and ricocheted.

It did not escape Dean’s notice that the object had changed its course away from him after the flash of light, though he didn’t know how that could’ve possibly happened.

The room was dead silent - a sound that could’ve only been made by, well, near death. But after a few seconds, the room heaved a collective sigh. Then, everyone started talking at once.

“Whew that was close!”

“What was that?”

“Hey, buddy, you ok?”

Dean had not moved a muscle; panic had locked every bone in his body. His eyes were wide and his mouth was agape. It wasn’t until he felt Jo frantically shaking his arm and calling his name that he was finally able to turn his head and look down at her worried face.

“Did you see the light?” he asked, in a hushed and awed voice.

“Ha ha,” Jo snapped sarcastically. “Well if you haven’t lost your sense of humor, then-”

“No, I’m serious!” Dean insisted. “There was a bright flash, did you see it?”

“Uhh, I think it was just some sparks from the engine,” she replied, sounding unconvinced.

Dean reached up and ran a hand over his face, briefly touching the place between his eyes where the metal should’ve gone. He gulped and his hand dropped back to his side. His eyes were glazed over.

“Dean, I think you should go home,” Jo pleaded. “Look, I’ll tell my mom you left early for Fourth of July.”

Dean nodded, then took a deep breath, blinking. Collecting himself, he turned to face Jo and said, “That’d be great, thank you.”

“Did I hear my name?” Ellen appeared beside Dean, putting a hand on his arm. “You ok? That thing looked like it was coming right at you.”

“Yeah, fine. Just a little dazed and confused is all.”

Jo cut in, “I was telling Dean that he should go home early. I can cover for him.”

“Normally I wouldn’t let you get off so easy, but, well, I wouldn’t consider nearly getting a chunk of car embedded in your melon easy!” Ellen chuckled, but Dean only grimaced. At the sight of his face, she frowned. “In fact, I think I’m gonna drive you home.”

Before he could open his mouth to argue, Ellen shut him down. “Don’t even bother. It’s no problem, I’ll get Jo to pick me up whenever she’s done.”

He only minded relinquishing Baby a little. Ellen was one of the few people he trusted with the Impala, a car that had been in the family since before Dean was born. It had been passed onto him on the day he had graduated college and been picked for a new position at Chevy - a job which Ellen had helped him get.

Jo nodded in agreement. She looked earnestly at Dean. “Take it easy, ok? Put your feet up, have a beer for me.”

Dean smiled weakly. “I’ll do that. And hey, that’s two I owe you for now.”      

 

The drive home was unusually quick, as they were early enough not to catch all the traffic. Dean lived a little way out of the city which made his commute long, but whenever he drove around the lake on his way home, he knew it was worth it. It wasn’t one of the Great Lakes, but it was a decent size. On most overcast days, the water was a dark gray, immense and unfathomable, but when the sun shone down on it, the lake became a deep, rich blue. No swimming was allowed, although boats were plentiful. Dean himself didn’t have one, but his neighbors did, and they often let him borrow it.

Dean’s job had him reporting to Ellen so, while he wasn’t surprised, he was relieved when she told him to take tomorrow off, and if she saw him in the building she’d whoop his ass all the way to Kansas. Dean was already taking half the day off so that he could drive down to his parent’s house for their Independence Day celebration. It was an odd holiday to take more than a day or two off for, but apparently the only one this year that both he and his brother weren’t too busy to attend.

As Ellen pulled into the driveway, Dean felt the familiar sense of peace and security begin to work its way through him. The heavy rumble of the Impala cut out, and Dean climbed out of his car in a trance, walking to his front door as if he was being pulled by an invisible string. He knew that once he’d stepped through that door, everything would go back to the way it always had been.

The house was old, but in a quaint, rustic way. What might’ve been the original coat of white paint was dull and cracked, and on the porch’s floorboards it was completely worn off. Well, it had mostly worn off before Dean had sanded the rest of the paint away and made sure that he wouldn’t be getting any splinters from walking around barefoot. There were only two floors, not including the strange, empty level only accessible from beneath the back porch, and also not including the single car garage off to the side. Dean hadn’t bought it with the intention of anyone living there but himself. Inside the house, a kitchen took up almost half the ground floor, and a living room the other half. On the second floor there was a couple bedrooms and a bathroom. The house was small, but it was his.

He loved leaving the doors and windows of the house open on a windy day. Everything would creak and moan, papers not held down would fly about, and doors would slam shut. It was his comforting reminder that there were no ghosts, no ghouls, and no supernatural; only nature and science and time were responsible for the simple life he lived. He didn’t know.

Outside the front of the house was a flower garden that his mother had helped him plant when he first bought the house. It was filled mostly with blue hydrangea bushes, a favorite of Mary’s and good in the cold winters, but there were also white geraniums and allium, which Dean had picked out solely because he thought they looked like giant jawbreakers on sticks. The backyard was quieter in color with only basil, chives, and some other herbs that Dean used in his cooking. Both gardens had neat, well kept lawns.

Dean invited Ellen in, and they sat together in the living room. He got them both glasses of whiskey while they talked about all the things that could’ve gone wrong in the engine. When Jo turned up forty minutes later, she added some of her own theories, but they all agreed that there’d need to be a lot more investigation to be sure.

After a while, Dean noticed that it was getting late, and he offered to make them dinner.

“That’s very tempting,” Ellen replied, “but we’d better get going. Bill will probably be at home and wondering where we are by now. ‘Preciate it though.”

Dean was a little disappointed. He didn’t particularly want to be on his own right now. “Maybe another time, then. And you can bring your husband too.”

Ellen smiled, nodding affirmatively.

“Are you ever going to give me the recipe you use for your pie?” asked Jo.

“I can’t go giving away family secrets now, can I?” Dean joked. “But if you come again I’ll make some for you guys.”

“I guess, if that’s what I have to settle for,” Jo gave an exaggerated sigh, but then her face cracked into an impish grin. Dean caught on pretty quickly.

“And no pie will be leaving the house either,” he said firmly. “I wouldn’t put it past you to call in a favor with one of your ChemE friends to have them analyze what I make it with.”

This time, Ellen laughed. “I wouldn’t put it past her either.”

“Moooooom!” Jo playfully pushed her mother with her shoulder, which only made Ellen laugh more.

She slowly stopped and took a breath, looking over at her daughter.

“We’d best be getting out of your hair.”

Dean stood up as they did and walked them to the door.

They said their goodbyes and Dean was left alone in his house. The sun fell pretty quickly after Ellen and Jo went home, and Dean, though he had to admit he was pleased to have started his holiday early, ended up with not much to do. He microwaved some leftovers, watched some tv, and called it an early night. As he drifted off to sleep, he could hear the waves of the lake out back lapping against his neighbor’s dock.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

The next day Dean traveled down to his parents in Lawrence, Kansas. Going down was a long, yet pretty uneventful drive. Dean was still rattled by the episode at work and his foot fell heavy on the gas pedal as he raced to be in the company of those who could turn his mind elsewhere.

When he knocked on the door, he was greeted by Mary Winchester, who was wearing old, faded jeans, a white blouse with blue and green flowers, and a very surprised expression.

“Dean!” she exclaimed, stepping forward and pulling him into a tight hug. He couldn’t help but grin as he put his arms around her and breathed in the familiar scent of home. They stayed together a moment, then she pulled away, looking him over and saying, “I wasn’t expecting you until much later.”

“Aw, mom, I’m sorry, I should’ve given you a heads up. I just didn’t have to go into work this morning.”

Mary smiled reassuringly, “It doesn’t matter. Now I’ll have some help getting ready for dinner; c’mon in here! Sam and Jess should arrive around five and hopefully your dad’ll get here about the same time.” Dean stepped into his old home, taking his shoes off at the door - an instilled habit his mom had devised when either of the boys came back into the house caked in mud, or when John came came back from his job at Singer Automobile covered in grease.

Dean looked all around the interior rooms, trying to spot every little change that had been made since he’d last been there. He couldn’t see any difference until he came face to face with Mary, who was looking at him with a slight frown on her face, her laugh lines deeper than before.

“You’re ok?” she asked, suddenly worried. “Everything’s going well at your job, right?”

“Yeah, I’m awesome,” Dean replied. “The job is great. I just had a little incident, so they’re letting me take an extra day.”

Mary’s expression changed to relief then back to concern again. She gestured toward the living room where they both took a seat on the worn leather couch.

“An incident?” she repeated. “What happened?”

Dean took a deep breath then launched into a retelling of what had happened the other day, trying to make the story sound much less harrowing than it actually was, all the while knowing that his mother could see right through him.

“That sounds terrible, sweetie,” she said when he had finished. “Are you sure you’re ok?”

“Yeah, of course! It takes more than something that small to spook me. I’m probably just a little tired is all. Need a break.”

Mary grimaced, and put her hand over Dean’s before looking up at him and saying, “Well, I know what’ll cheer you up. I was just beginning to make an apple pie.” Dean couldn’t help but let his face split into a wide grin. Mary’s face also relaxed, and she stood up, smiling too. “Come help me cut up some apples; you’re better at it than I am.”

Dean got up too. “Alright!” he answered, and followed his mother into the kitchen.

Only twenty minutes passed them by before John came home. Dean and Mary were still in the kitchen when they heard him come through the front door.

“Dean!” John’s gruff voice echoed throughout the house. “Is that my car I see in the driveway?”

“Dad, hey!” called Dean from the kitchen, putting down his knife and going out to see his father.

“You’re taking good care of her I see.”

“Of course,” Dean asserted as he rounded the corner and came face to face with his father, who pulled into a firm, one-armed hug.

“Good to see you, son,” John said when he’d released him. “Didn’t think you’d be here until tomorrow.”

“Yeah, I got an extra day off work.”

“That job going well for you?”

“Yeah, great.” Dean looked over his dad’s shoulder as he saw a third car pull up outside of the house. “Looks like Sam’s here,” shouted Dean, his voice raised so that Mary could hear him from in the kitchen.

“Go help him bring his bags in,” she called back. Dean obliged and went out to meet Sam and Jess.

He walked up to his brother who was climbing out of the car sporting hair that fell below his ears.

“One day, Sammy, I’m just going to sneak up on you with a pair of shears. You won’t even see it coming.”

Sam shut the car door and turned to face Dean, wearing his best bitch face.

“If you touch my hair I’ll kill you,” Sam snapped. “And for the last time, man, you gotta stop calling me Sammy. It’s Sam.”

“Never!” Dean yelled as he lunged for his brother. Dean caught Sam by surprise as he pulled him into a headlock and tried to touch as much of his hair as possible. Sam, however, was not defenseless for long as he stood up to his full height, grappling Dean in any possible attempt to free his long locks. Dean was standing on his tiptoes to reach up, so when Sam tried walking away from his car Dean wrapped his feet around Sam’s calves. As he stepped off the drive and onto the lawn, Sam tripped, pulling them both down. They fell onto the grass panting and using their remaining breath for laughter.

“Bitch,” rasped Dean.

“Jerk,” Sam wheezed back.

“When you boys are done, a little help would be appreciated,” said Jess, who stood over the pair of them, hands on her hips, the look on face torn between amusement and exasperation.

Dean immediately jumped up. “Yeah, of course!” he said as he turned to face Sam who was still on the grass. Dean held out his hand as an offering of peace, but when Sam reached up to accept it he whipped it away with a “Ha!” and went off to help Jess on his own. Dean gave her a quick apology with a friendly hug in greeting, and he could still hear his brother grumbling as he picked one of their suitcases from the trunk of the car and carried it into the house.

 

There was only an intermittent buzz of conversation at the dinner table that night, mingled with the clinking of cutlery, as everyone was too engrossed in Mary’s delicious cooking. Anyway, when talking did happen, it was just the same old _How’s work, Dean? Great!_ or _Your law firm isn’t going to crumble while you’re away, Sam? No, everything’s being handled by our excitable attorney, Kevin._ Sure, Mary had some interesting stories about her time on duty at the hospital, stories which, considering the lead up to the Fourth of July celebrations, included a lot of fireworks stuffed into and stuck in increasingly bizarre places. That got a good laugh out of everyone. But it wasn’t until towards the end of the meal that the conversation turned away from its sweet and superficial tone to something more engaging.

“Alright, everyone,” said Sam, silencing his family. “Jess and I have an announcement to make… We’re getting married!”

The table erupted with congratulations and everyone got up to hug the engaged couple. When they had at last sat down again, John was the first one to speak.

“Sam I don’t know what you’ve done to deserve such a lovely girl, but here she is, and I hope you have many happy years together. And Jess? Welcome to the family.”

“Jess has been apart of the family for years!” Mary chided. “Now it’s just going to be official.” She looked lovingly at her son and soon to be daughter-in-law. “This is wonderful news you two. A new chapter for each of your lives, and one you both can write together.”

“Jess,” said Dean, “there’s no one I’d rather be able to call a sister. Though I’m kinda with Dad here. My brother hasn’t put you under a spell or anything?”

“Actually he has, Dean. That’s the point!” laughed Jess. She looked over at Sam and picked up his hand resting on the table. He gazed back down at her and squeezed her hand. She turned to Dean again. “But there was no blood magic or animal sacrifice involved if that’s what you’re wondering.”  

Dean chuckled, “Well then I couldn’t be happier for you. And Sammy, I’m proud of you.”

“Thanks, Dean,” Sam said quietly. It was the first time he’d spoken since the announcement.

“So when is it your turn, Dean?” John interrupted. “I see we have an empty seat here at the table.”

Dean tensed. He could feel an interrogation coming his way. “Oh, I’ve just been busy at work and all. Haven’t had time to get out much.” He knew that his father was pleased with what Dean did and he hoped that talking about work would shake him off.

“You’ve been at the same job for years.”

Mary cut in, “I’m sure Dean just hasn’t found the right one yet.”

John snorted. “Probably because he keeps pulling the classic love ‘em ‘n leave ‘em.”

“I’ve had girlfriends,” Dean protested.

“It doesn’t count if they only last for one night.”

“John!” Mary admonished.

“Fine, a week.”

Sam spoke up. “What about that girl I met the last time I was up at your place? The one you work with? Jo? She seems nice.”

“Yeah, she’s great! But no, we’re just friends,” Dean said with a defensive air of confidence. Meanwhile, his stomach was turning itself into knots.

“They’re friends,” John repeated mockingly. “Which means that Dean already knows that he likes her, he’s just too scared to commit. What are you afraid of, boy? Kids?”

“I like kids, they’re great,” insisted Dean.  

“But you don’t think you could deal with one full time, is that it? I mean, you’re getting older, and I don’t think you’ve ever even had to take care of a pet, let alone a child.”

“That’s not true, John,” said Mary calmly. “Dean had that one girlfriend, Lisa, who had a child.” She looked over at Dean. “You two went out for quite sometime, and I’m sure you got plenty of experience from that.”

He nodded, his teeth gritted. Though her comment was supposed to defend Dean, it cut him to the quick. It was true, he’d had cared for Ben a lot, but the fact that his mother had conveniently forgotten about all the time he looked after Sam when they were both kids was ignorant and hurtful. It was as if, to his parents, those long nights when John would get home drunk, or those longer days when Mary would simply be gone never existed.

John broke Dean’s train of thought, “Yeah, but she’s not his girlfriend anymore.”   

Dean had to put a stop to this or he was going to be sick right there at the table. “Alright! C’mon, this night isn’t about me, it’s about Sam and Jess.”

“You’re right, sweetie,” Mary placated. “I think we need to move on from all this with some pie. Does that sound good?” There was a chorus of forcefully excited _great_ s and _yeah_ s in reply.

Dean and Mary both stood up and began to take away the main plates. They left for the kitchen and came back only a couple minutes later, Dean bearing newer, smaller plates, and Mary with a golden pie held carefully in her oven mitts. Sam gave a little fanfare which made everyone laugh.

“That looks amazing, Mary,” Jess complimented.

John countered, “I’ll bet it tastes even better,” as the pie was set down on the table. It smelt unbelievable as Mary dug the knife into the center and even better when the first piece was served.  

Dean forced down a slice of the pie he’d helped make because he knew that if he didn’t his family would start asking questions. He didn’t want them to know how much their little conversation had hurt him. Both his father and Sam went back for seconds however.

Nobody particularly felt like hanging around once dessert was over, and once the last fork had been put down, Mary began to pick up everyone’s empty plates.   

“Oh, here mom, don’t worry about it.” Sam took the dishes from his mother’s hands. “We’ll get it for you.”

Sam gave a significant look to Dean, who gave a comically exaggerated grimace back but nodded anyways.

“You boys are the sweetest,” she said.

After that, John headed upstairs and Jess and Mary wandered off to the living room. Normally, Dean would feel bad seeing the bride being abandoned with the mother-in-law, but he knew that the two of them got along dangerously well. The boys were left to clear the table.

 

When they were growing up, Sam and Dean were the kind of boys who could walk through a rainstorm without getting wet. It was as if they possessed such a magic that would allow them to step wherever they please, and the droplets would simply avoid them.

They were always in sync too, and this was a magic that was in use now, as the two of them stood in front of the sink, washing dishes. Dean’s hands were submerged in warm, soapy water, but he wasn’t paying attention to what they were doing. Instead, his gaze kept wandering over to his baby brother who was taking the plates handed to him, washing them off and placing them in the dish rack. Neither one ever needed to pause or wait for the other.

Finally, Sam caught Dean’s eye. “Dude, what is it? You’re creeping me out.”

Dean looked down, smiling. “Aw, nothing,” he replied. “I’m just really happy for you, Sam.” He looked back up at his brother who was now also smiling.

“Thanks,” Sam chuckled, “Me too.” His smile dropped a little, and he tilted his head to look over at Dean. “Hey, look, what Dad said tonight, and even what Mom said too? Don’t listen to them, ok?”

“Yeah, I know,” said Dean, a little sharply. He sighed. “It doesn’t matter.”

“No, Dean, it does. I know what you did for me, what you still do for me. You took complete responsibility for me when I was just a kid, and you were hardly that much older either. Just because Mom and Dad don’t know anything about it-” Sam cut himself off, taking a deep breath. Dean had become intently focused on washing the dishes. “I think you’re going to be a great father. I already know you are, and I don’t think I’ve ever got to thank you for it.” Dean looked up at Sam. They had both stopped what they were doing. “Dean, I want you to be my best man.”

Soapy water went flying everywhere as Dean wrapped his sibling in a firm embrace. Sam laughed as he returned the hug. “You’re getting my clothes all wet,” he griped. Dean didn’t let go. “I take it this is a yes then?” Dean finally stepped back, grinning.

“I would be honored to. Anything for my little brother.” As Dean said this, he reached up with his wet, gloved hand and placed it on Sam’s neck.

“Aw, no, stop!” cried Sam as he felt the clammy, rubber glove on his face. He grabbed ahold of both of Dean’s hands and tried to stuff them back in the sink. Dean struggled, ending up in more water and foam being splashed about. Laughter echoed throughout the kitchen.   

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

It wasn’t until he climbed into the shower the next morning that Dean realized how cold he was. The steaming water hit his skin with a blast, and he gasped aloud. There was something about him that seemed to make him perpetually cool. He figured that it was an older sibling thing, as, through experimentation, he’d discovered that the younger ones generally put out more heat.

Sammy was no exception. Dean remembered, many years ago when their house would slowly freeze waiting for someone to pay the bills, he and his little brother would curl up together under the blankets in Dean’s bed and read comics in the bright torchlight.

The memory of five year old Sam falling asleep in his arms felt bittersweet. It was another thing that he couldn’t quite forgive.

Dean himself wouldn’t sleep until he’d heard his father clunk up the stairs and go to bed. Some nights he’d wait even longer still, wondering if he’d hear his mother come back home, but most of the time he’d fall asleep long before.

But he faced them in the morning, and everything was fine. It was the Fourth of July today, so there was no time to feel anything other than grateful and happy. It was so busy in the Winchester house that there really wasn’t any time for Dean to think about it anyway.

In the afternoon, there was a barbecue and all the neighbors were invited. Everyone was congratulating Sam and Jess as they announced their engagement. Dean caught up with a few of his old school friends, but he hadn’t stayed in touch with many of them after high school, so their talks were mostly perfunctory.

As it was getting dark, the gathering of people walked up to the highest point in the surrounding area to watch the fireworks. The show was put on by the city of Lawrence, and it was fantastic. Flashes of red, white, and blue, among other colors, lit up the surrounding houses, releasing Lawrence from the darkness that the night had brought.    

After the fireworks and a few more beers with the neighbors, Dean decided to go back home. It wasn’t because he was tired, it was just because he couldn’t bear to hear anymore about how perfectly everyone was doing. When he got back, he grabbed another beer from the fridge and headed up to his old room where he could get away. The window in his room lead right out onto a small section of roof where he and Sam had sat when they’d been younger and watch the stars. Tonight, however, all Dean could really see was smoky clouds.

 

As he leaned back and took a sip of his beer, his mind wandered to dinner the first night. He knew his parents tried their best, most of the time, but John could be a real dick when he wanted to. And it wasn’t as if Dean never got into any actual arguments with his father, it was just that these arguments were only ever about someone else; Dean hardly ever tried to defend himself.  

He knew now that his little comment to Sam about being proud of him must’ve set the man off. There was nothing John disliked more than being reminded of those years when he spent more time with his work, or worse with a bottle, than he did with his children. Even if it was as subtle as Dean saying something that he as a father should’ve said.

But he at least had the humility to accept and understand what he’d done, Dean thought, even if he hadn’t seemed to connect Sam’s successful upbringing with Dean. It was his mother, however, that seemed to be completely unaware of her absence in those years. He understood; it must’ve been difficult for her to watch her husband’s life slowly descend into chaos, but to practically abandon her children just as John had been doing was equally unacceptable.

If their family seemed all perfect and normal now, it was only because of a car crash that put John in the hospital on life support, and knocked some sense back into the two of them.

He also knew that to a certain extent his father was just teasing him. At least, that’s what he hoped. Snark and sarcasm ran in the family from both sides, and everyone was always giving each other crap for something. But this time it had gotten dangerously close to the truth. Dean silently thanked both his mom and brother for trying to step in.

Dean sighed and took a swig from his bottle. A soft voice came from behind him.

“Aren’t you a little big for this now?” Dean turned to find his mom standing at the window, her arms resting on the frame and her chin resting on her hands. She smiled up at him, “I sure don’t think your father would appreciate it if you caused the roof to collapse now. You’re not a teenage boy anymore.”

“I’m pretty sure this house could survive a nuclear blast, so I think it’d need something much greater than me to break it. Or someone. Maybe if Sammy was up here instead.”

Mary laughed, “Oh, I don’t know, this house is getting a little old,” but she too climbed out of the window and sat next to Dean on the roof. He put his arm around her, and his eyes crinkled when she lay her head on his shoulder.

“Speaking of Sam, how excited are you for the wedding?”

“Very! I’m so happy for him; he’s starting a family, and Jess is amazing.”

“Isn’t she?” Mary replied. They sat quietly for a moment. “And how’s life with you? How’s work?”

Dean tilted his head a little. “I mean, before the little incident, great,” he said. “I’d been mostly in charge of the team that designed that engine, and it was completely acing all of our tests and requirements.”

“Well, that’s just wonderful.” Mary looked up at her son. “I’m so proud of you and your brother. Sam getting married, and you being a successful engineer.” She sighed and looked out across the houses. “My boys are growing up too quickly.”

“Sorry, mom.”

Mary laughed, “Oh don’t be, that’s just what happens. You’ll always stay young in my head.”

They sat there quietly watching the last remnants of backyard fireworks.

“Hey, Dean, don’t worry about what your dad said at dinner the other night; he was just teasing. It doesn’t matter how long it takes for you to find someone, just as long as they’re the right one for you. I know there’s someone out there wondering if they’ll ever find anyone too.” Mary squeezed Dean’s arm comfortingly, but he still sighed. She kissed him on the cheek. “You will. I promise.”

“Thanks, mom,” Dean said softly, looking over at her through his eyelashes.

She ducked out from under his arm, whispering a ‘goodnight’, and slipped from his side back through the window.

“Goodnight,” Dean replied, but he wasn’t sure if she’d heard.      

 

The next day, everyone was a little hungover. But that didn’t stop everything else from continuing around them, and today was the day for goodbyes. John had to go to work pretty early, but Sam and Jess’s flight wasn’t until a little later, and Dean could leave whenever he wanted. They hung out at the house together with Mary, who only had to work if she got called. It was peaceful and happy, and Dean missed it before he’d even left. He wished sometimes that they all lived closer together, so it didn’t take as much organization to get everyone in one room.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Dean had only made it halfway through Missouri when the Impala began to smoke. He’d made a wrong turn somewhere after stopping to get gas and found himself driving on a worn, abandoned road in the middle of nowhere. A yellow sign with a warning to watch out for wildlife had just passed him by when this strange, black smoke began to seep through air vents on the passenger side of the car. It came slowly at first, in a little wisp, and remained unnoticed by Dean until a strange sulfurous scent filled his nostrils.

“What the hell?” he muttered.

As if the smoke heard him, it began to spew heavily through all the vents and swirl around him, forming a surprisingly cognitive shape for something that was supposed to be a gas. Keeping one hand on the wheel, Dean coughed and waved his free hand around trying to dispel it. He was unsuccessful. The opacity of the smoke had obliterated Dean’s view of the road and though he had taken his foot off the gas, the car seemed to speed up, sending Dean’s already frantic heartbeat through the roof.

The smoke wrapped around him, squeezing ever tighter, like a giant snake. Dean had attempted to use the momentum of the car to disrupt it, but after no success in making even the car do what he wanted, let alone the smoke, he relinquished all control of the wheel and began to climb backwards over the seat to the trunk of the car.

Dean’s vision had turned black, yet when he finally managed to scoot himself into the middle of the back bench of the Impala, he could feel a presence sitting next to him. He did not know if this had any connection to the smoke, though right now he wasn’t feeling too kindly toward either anonymous entity. He tried to scramble away but it was at that moment that the smoke drove itself straight at Dean’s face. Dean shut his eyes and clamped his mouth shut, refusing even to breathe from his nose. The smoke kept coming at him.

He didn’t know how much longer he could last without breathing. He tried to reach over to open the car door. But as Dean prepared himself to open his eyes and inhale, a new sensation came over him. A vice like grip wrapped around his shoulder, and Dean felt the very air around him rapidly expanding, pulling him apart, then stopping - as if he was in the center of a bomb milliseconds after its detonation and someone had hit freeze frame.

He blinked and sucked in a deep, shuddering breath. Everything was still pitch black, but he could see that the car and everything surrounding it was gone. Dean himself was present and intact. At least, he thought he was, though the burning feeling spreading from his shoulder made him unsure. As an instinct reaction, Dean reached around and started to scratch and tear at the searing flesh, trying to ease the pain, yet no sooner had he done so than it stopped.

The pull on Dean snapped, and he was sent spiralling out, flung like a ragdoll into God knows where. The complete release of all pressure made him buzz uncomfortably.  After a few seconds, Dean could feel every atom of his being fizzle, starting from his toes and working upwards as though he was falling through an invisible barrier. Once his head had passed through, he was struck by a blinding white light that flashed quickly and was gone.     

Stars now burst before Dean’s eyes and spun around violently, making him nauseous. He shut his eyes, but that didn’t release the feeling of weightlessness, as if, in the absence of finding something to hold onto, he would be left to float away into the void of space and never find his home again. There was no ground beneath his feet and no car to act as a cage.

Dean, unsure of what to do next, felt the air stir heavily beside him, as if something was rushing up to meet him. Suddenly, claws were raking his clothing, attempting to take hold of him. Dean twisted and kicked blindly. He forced himself to open his eyes to confront his foe and gave a yell as he found himself face to face with a gigantic lion. The lion roared, the noise almost deafening Dean, its hot breath blasting his face, and its razor sharp teeth inches away from his skin.

The lion arched its back, its paws wrapped around Dean’s torso, and its mouth opened as wide as possible. Dean shut his eyes again, his whole body tense, waiting for teeth to sink into his neck.

But instead of sharp points, a heavy pressure began to consume his body, radiating from his chest outward. When the reverberations began, Dean felt as though he were inside one of his engines, and his whole body shook like an earthquake. He opened his eyes again, trying to determine what was happening and to his great surprise, the lion had been replaced by a small house cat, curled on his chest, purring. The cat turned its head to look at Dean; its fur was coal, and its eyes were cornflowers. Though Dean didn’t usually mind cats, he found this one extremely unnerving, and with a strangled cry he shoved it off of his chest.

Instead of disappearing into the darkness, the cat twisted lazily and morphed into a zebra. This new creature kept close to him but maneuvered itself in the air until it was facing away from him. With a swift motion, the zebra’s short legs kicked out at Dean and hit him squarely in the chest, exactly where the cat had rested only moments before. The force of the kick felt, not like a heavy blow, but like someone had attached an anchor to him. He was no longer floating adrift, and he was instead set in a direction that, as he plummeted, Dean could only assume to be down.  

There was no way of knowing if he’d hit the ground, or if there was even a ground to hit.

But in the blink of an eye, Dean found himself standing in a room with a mirror. Dizziness racked his body, as if he’d just stepped off an unbridled rollercoaster. A fierce intake of breath whipped through Dean, and he blinked hard a few times as if to dispel a bad dream.

When his vision cleared, he noticed that the room he stood in was tiny, no larger than eight feet cubed. The walls were grey, the floor checkered black and white, and the mirror that Dean faced was set behind a large rectangular sink with two silver taps, yet no bowl to hold the water nor hole to drain it. He expected that had he turned the taps on and even been successful in getting water out, it would just slip off the counter and onto his boots.

As he looked up and into the face in the mirror in front of him, Dean noticed something flicker in his eyes. He leaned in closer, teetering toward the mirror, staring at his irises that had seemingly been replaced by a field of tall grass on a hill and a breeze that rustled through the stems of the grass, causing the seed heads to ripple, sending waves of pale gold through the summer green. As Dean leaned in further, his own brow shadowed his eyes slightly causing his pupils to dilate and consume the field like a black hole swallowing everything in its path. He quickly jumped back, frightened, and the cosmic event released ever so slightly.

Dean looked away from the mirror in a desperate rush to find his way out, but as he turned around, Dean discovered that he wasn’t even standing in the room any longer.

He found himself standing in the very same field he’d seen within himself, at the top of the slope where the grass was up to his mid-thigh, and a warm breeze came from behind, running down the hill in flurries. The crisp swishing of the grass was soft on Dean’s ears. A voice, too, echoed behind him, though for a second Dean imagined it to be the deep rumble of a rocky stream that would sweep away everything in its path.

“It’s funny, you can’t see the wind but you can see how it affects the things around it.”

Dean turned sharply, preparing for the worst, flashes of the lion filling his thoughts, only to see what appeared to be a mere man standing solemnly behind him gazing down the field. He had dark, unkempt hair and steel-blue eyes with wide, flat lips to match the wide, flat cheeks that were set high on his face. His smile would’ve been gorgeous, if he ever had the aptitude to use it, but Dean did not think that he did, for the man looked as cold and stern as if he had been carved out of stone. The man looked up and his eyes met Dean’s. It was then that Dean noticed something strange about him, and as he realized this, his heart began to pound. Black feathered wings protruded from both above and below the old, tan trenchcoat this creature was wearing. Breath caught in Dean’s throat as he took a cautious step back.

“W-what are you?” he began. “Where am I? Where’s my car? Where have you taken me? Who are you?” The words tumbled out of his mouth in a panic, speeding up as the weight of his situation set in.

“My name is Castiel,” the man replied, “and I’m the one that has been keeping you safe for all these years. Dean-”

“How do you know my name?” Dean asked, “and what do you mean keeping me safe?”

“Dean,” the creature urged, “I can’t explain right now. We’re not supposed to be here, and we have to leave. You’re just going to have to trust me.”

“Trust you?” Dean cried, “I don’t even know what you are or if you’re real. I mean, c’mon man, you have wings.”

“I’ll explain later, let me take you home.” The man started to walk towards Dean, arms outstretched.

Dean began to walk backwards, pleading, “No, no, nononono, get back, don’t touch me,” but as Castiel lengthened his strides, ignoring him, he stopped pretending that talking would get him anywhere and turned to run. Before Dean could get more than a few steps, he felt a strong arm wrap around his chest, barring any forward movement. The creature pulled Dean into him, holding on tightly as Dean wriggled to get free, and then once again Dean could no longer feel the ground beneath his feet. He heard the flurry of feathers, and the screech of space and time being bent filled his head as his atoms rearranged themselves, departing from the field and attempting to reform elsewhere.    

His flight, as Dean was now entirely sure that this was he could call it, was marginally more comfortable this time around. He felt Castiel’s firm embrace, and he heard his wings buffeting the air around them.   

Surprisingly, when his feet hit the ground again and he finally opened his eyes, Dean found himself standing in his backyard. He scrambled to push away from Castiel and turned to face him, breathing heavily. At the moment, he wanted nothing more than to run into his house screaming, lock his doors and never come back out, but somewhere in the back of his mind he didn’t think that locks would stop what was standing in front of him.

Dean forced himself to regain some composure, and when he had done so, something had changed. He thought of the smoke trying to attack him and the second abnormal presence in the car that had saved him. That could’ve only been Castiel. Though he was terrified of the power of this creature, gut instinct told Dean that he could trust him, at least a little, for now. Besides, Dean’s desire for answers outweighed his fear of what these answers would be. Dean nodded to himself, coming to a decision, and meeting Castiel’s undefinable stare, waved towards his house.

“Well, let’s go.” He strode off towards his house, and the winged-man followed. It had not escaped Dean’s attention that these wings had, once again, vanished, and that he had not been able to see them from the second they had landed. It was another thing Dean put down on his mental list of an increasing number of questions.

 

“Fuck, I’m hungry,” Dean groaned as he came crashing through the old door into his house, digging into his pockets out of habit and being incredibly surprised to find that his car keys were actually there. He tossed the keys into a bowl on the kitchen counter. For some unknown reason, the flying had made him desperately hungry, and he could hear his stomach growling.

“I’m making us grilled cheese and you can’t say no,” he yelled over his shoulder to Castiel, who was frowning at the screen door that was trying to follow him into the house, “because you’re going to tell me everything. Now sit.” Dean pointed to a chair at the head of the table standing squarely in the middle of the kitchen while he got out sourdough bread from the freezer and cheese and butter from the fridge.

As Castiel sat down at the table in the seat he had been assigned, Dean put two slices of bread in the toaster, removed a saucepan from the cupboard below, and, after placing it on the stove, turned on the heat. His silent companion sat seemingly inert, yet his eyes, when they were not roaming around the antique, western-style house, were fixed upon Dean. He waited for the bread to be toasted, and although Dean’s mind was burning with a thousand questions, his mouth stayed shut and his gaze fell down to his hands, resisting the urge to look over at Castiel, but still keeping the outline of the man in his peripheral vision. The tension of the quiet stillness began to solidify, and when finally the toast popped out of the toaster, Dean flinched and suppressed a curse. Castiel merely blinked.

Dean put two new slices of bread in the toaster. He then began to butter each of the pieces of toast that had just popped. The silence, however, had finally eaten away at Dean’s patience and he could no longer hold in the thoughts running rampant in his mind.

“Where’s my car?” was the first question that came out of his mouth.

“I believe it got wrapped around a tree shortly after our departure,” replied Castiel.

“What? You let Baby crash?!” Dean barked, throwing his hands in the air, one holding a knife and the other a half-buttered slice of toast.

“Baby? I don’t understand, this is an inanimate object that we are talking about. I had thought that you would value your life more than a replaceable piece of metal.”

Dean gaped, unable to find words for a second before blurting out, “Look, Cas, I’m grateful for being saved from whatever that smoke stuff was. Thanks and all.” The shortened name came without thought, and Dean berated himself for the small slip, mentally making the note to add ‘unwittingly giving someone who can probably kill me with his pinky finger a goofy nickname’ to the list of skills in his resume, if he ever lived that long.  He paused to regain composure, holding his breath as he waited to hear a response from the stranger. When none came, Dean exhaled and continued, “but I don’t expect you to understand what that _irreplaceable_ piece of metal means to me. I want it back. Or at least tell me where it is so that I can pick it up.”    

There was a deeply exasperated sigh from Cas, and Dean used this moment to, once he’d finally finished with the pieces of toast, put them butter side down in the saucepan, filling the kitchen with a manic sizzling sound. He had begun to cut some of the hard, white cheddar into thick slices before Castiel spoke again.

“I’ll have it fixed and brought back as soon as possible,” he acquiesced.

“No,” said Dean, laying the slices of cheese down on the unbuttered side of one of the pieces of toast in the saucepan.

“No? Isn’t this what you want?”

“No - I mean yes, bring it back but no, don’t fix it. I want to do that myself,” Dean asserted, covering the cheese with the other piece of toast.

Cas clasped his hands together in a kind of defeat at Dean’s stubbornness. “Fine,” was all he said.

The second set of bread slices popped up from the toaster but this time the noise was drowned in the sizzling. Neither of them spoke again and Castiel continued to sit patiently as Dean buttered the next slices of bread, a delicious scent wafting around the kitchen. Once the bottom side of the toasted cheese sandwich was sufficiently golden, Dean flipped it and let it cook until both sides were crispy. When it was done, he arranged the sandwich onto a plate, cutting it diagonally with a large knife, and placed the plate in front of Cas before beginning the same process on his sandwich.

“This is very good,” Cas commented after he’d taken a bite of the toasted cheese. Dean smirked down at the frying pan, surprised and pleased that some of the first emotion he’d seen from the man had been provoked by his cooking. As he began to make the second sandwich in the same manner, Dean decided to take another track.

“So… what are you?”

“We call ourselves Gatekeepers.”

Dean waited, hoping his silence would spur the man to continue, but Castiel did not seem to get the hint.

“What does that mean? You ‘call yourselves Gatekeepers’. Isn’t that what you are then? I mean, to me you look more like angels-”

“Yes, angels,” Cas cut across him. “In the few glimpses of us that mankind has seen, that is what they think of us as. But we are much older than the idea of angels. We are protectors of the other realm, first and foremost.”

“The other realm?” asked Dean, incredulous.

“It is, you might say, a parallel Earth.”

“A parallel Earth?” Dean repeated.

“That is what I said,” answered Cas, slowly taking another bite of his sandwich.

“Like Berenstein with an ‘e’ parallel or Berenstain with an ‘a’?”

Cas’s face distinctly showed confusion. “I’m not sure what that’s referring to”

“Nevermind. So, what is this other Earth called? Does it have a name?”

“Yes, it’s called Rathe.”

“Wrath? Like biblical?”  

“No, it’s an anagram of Earth,” explained Cas.

Dean rolled his eyes. “Dude, that’s like the Lonely Mountain of creativity.” There was a slight pause as he finished making his own sandwich and pulled up a chair at the end of the table, directly opposing the wingless angel. “And, uh, is that where you took me?” he asked after he’d savoured his first bite.

“Not exactly. Where we were is the void in between the two worlds. I had not intended for you to go there, but I also did not expect you to struggle so much.”

“Oh, so you just thought that if you kidnapped someone, they’d go along with you?” he snapped.

“I was saving your life, Dean,” said Cas, matter-of-factly.

“Yeah. So you’ve told me.” Dean sighed, releasing some tension. He grabbed a napkin from the stand in the center of the table. While he appreciated the blunt, cut and dry answers that the stranger was giving him, he couldn’t help but feel very uneasy. There was something he just couldn’t understand.

“Why did you save me?”  

Castiel’s gaze was intense and piercing. “I’ve been ordered to protect you and to watch over you.”

“By who? You guys have bosses?”

Cas paused. “A higher authority,” he finally said.

Dean frowned. It was a moment before he decided to confront the information just placed before him.

“And what does this… higher authority,” he rolled the phrase round his tongue, embellishing it with the sarcasm he thought it was due, “want with me?”

“They think you’re important and are going to be a deciding factor in the events to come,” Castiel declared.

Dean scoffed, unable to decide which of the things Cas had said was more ridiculous.

“Yeah, and how did they figure that one out?”

“That’s irrelevant,” said Cas confidently, although there was something about his tone that made Dean question if he really knew. “All that matters is that when I’m told it’s time, you come with me.”

“Ah, I get it. You’re just a good little soldier who follows orders, no questions asked, right?” Dean mocked, recognizing that he was probably pissing Castiel the fuck off.

He was right.

“It is what I was born and trained to do,” Cas’ voice had lowered to a growl, “but do not make the mistake of thinking of me as a simple grunt. I have been in charge of the incredibly vital task of watching over you your entire life.”

“They told you that was a vital task? Me?” Dean laughed, though the ‘your entire life’ part did not go unnoticed. “Sorry to be the one to tell you, but I think they’ve been yanking your chain.”

“Do you not understand how important you are?” It was Cas’ turn to be incredulous. “We’ve been told our whole lives, all the thousands of years I’ve lived, that you’ll be the one to stop the collision of the two worlds and the release of the in-between realm.”

Dean gazed around the room blankly, rearranging his thoughts. To him, the scale of things was difficult to comprehend, and Castiel’s apparent immortality just seemed impossible. He tried to confirm something smaller, “The in-between realm, is that where we just were?”

“No. This place is far more… tangible. It’s where all of the Oathbreakers are kept.” At the confused look on Dean’s face Cas explained, “As we are angels to you, they are demons.”

Demons. Of course. For everything good in the world, there had to be a counterbalance of bad. Dean hoped he would never meet one of these Oathbreakers, but then he reminded himself of the black smoke in the car. It was not a memory to dwell on.

“What will happen to the other place, y’know, this Rathe? Why can’t one of the people there do this?”

“It’ll be crushed.” Cas’ voice remained steady. “It has to be you, Dean.”

There was no getting around it. And anyways, even if he refused, Dean could easily imagine himself being forcefully dragged by Castiel to his fulfill his supposed destiny.  

“So does this in between realm have an ingenious name too?” he asked mockingly, “What’s it called, Heart?”

“How did you know that?” Cas queried, squinting as he spoke.

“Oh c’mon man, you can’t be fucking serious,” Dean groaned, “First the Lonely Mountain, now Mount Doom too? Did they breed the imagination out of you guys or something?”

“I don’t understand. These are not single mountains I’m talking about, they are va-”

“Yeah, yeah, I get it,” said Dean dismissively. “So is Heart like a third parallel world?”

“No. It’s… more of a concentric circle around Rathe, though not quite in the same dimension.”

“That doesn’t really make sense, but ok.” Dean ran everything through his head again, trying to sort it all out. “So you need me to somehow stop the contents of Heart being emptied out into Earth?” he asked. Cas affirmed. “How?”

“When the time is right, you and I will hunt down a weapon that will destroy everything in Heart, and when we find it, we will return it safely to my people.”

“And when will the time be right?”

“I don’t know,” admitted Cas. “Not much has been planned yet; you weren’t even supposed to know about this until we were ready. But I was forced to reveal myself to save you, and the presence of Oathbreakers on Earth is very worrying. Soon, I believe. We have to get this weapon before they find a way to open Heart.”

Dean raised an eyebrow. “But that’s it? That’s all we have to do - retrieve the magical object?”

“This mission will be dangerous.”

“It’s ok; I have health insurance,” Dean said with a certain degree of snark.

“I’m serious, Dean.”

Dean paused a moment, then decided. “So am I.” Cas narrowed his eyes a little, staring at Dean intently. “Look, I’ll do it, ok? If you need me to help you out then so be it. I’ll tag along, though I don’t know what use I’ll be.”

It didn’t show on his face, but relief that Cas exuded was palpable. He pushed his chair back and stood up.

“I’ll return when we need you.”

Dean scrambled to stand up too, and his chair scraped noisily on the floor. “Hold on a minute, how do I know I won’t be attacked again?”

“I’m going to put wards around you, your house, your car, your work, and your family. Then the Oathbreakers won’t be able to get to you.”

“O- Ok,” he said, hoping that that meant he would get his car back.

Cas walked over to Dean. He reached up and tapped Dean lightly over the heart. “Until next time,” he said, looking at Dean squarely.

Dean nodded, but did not reply; his words had been stolen by the sharpness of Cas’ gaze and the pervasive blue of his eyes.

The screen door creaked as Cas exited. Dean could hear him chant at the house in an unintelligible language for a minute, then there was a heavy flutter of wings, and then silence, which Dean could only presume to mean that Cas had finally left. He released all the air that he’d trapped in his lungs and collapsed back into the chair, his head falling onto his arms resting on the table.  

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

If Dean was surprised to walk into his garage the next morning to find the Impala, a nice tree shaped dent in the front and a cracked windscreen, he was not even as remotely surprised as he was when he discovered that all of the pieces he would need to fix his baby were leaning neatly against the garage wall. This include a new windshield, grill, and hood, along with new lights. Dean was impressed to find that Cas, for he assumed that that was the only one it could’ve been, had made sure to get the correct items for his ‘67 Impala and not some other model. It wasn’t exactly what Dean had planned on spending his entire Sunday doing, but what the hell; cars were, after all, Dean’s passion, especially this car.

After surveying the damage and assessing what would need to be done, Dean went back into his house to look for his iPod and speakers. When he came back out, he set up the speakers somewhere they wouldn’t get knocked over, plugged in the iPod, and picked the first song, Led Zeppelin’s “Ramble On”, setting the rest of his playlist to shuffle. He turned up the music to near full blast, then turned to his car.

First order of business was dismantling. He tore away at any damaged part of the car he could see, leaving much of the front bare and the engine exposed. A pile of the damaged scraps of metal began to form just outside the garage door. Some of them could be reused, but the rest Dean would discard later in the week.

By the time this stage was over, Dean was sweating a little, even though he already wore fewer layers than what he’d started with. Many songs had come and gone, including “Fly Like An Eagle” _,_ by the Steve Miller Band, and “She’s So Heavy” _,_ by the Beatles, both of which made Dean chuckle, though in a nervous and disbelieving way.

He became engrossed in his work, moving on from destruction to restoration, however, it couldn’t completely take his mind off yesterday. Remembering the void brought along a feeling of motion sickness, and thinking about everything else made Dean wonder how it could’ve possibly all happened, and whether it actually had. But, of course, the car was here to prove that. His crumpled, crushed car, smelling suspiciously of sulfur. He would have to put in a couple of strong air fresheners to get rid of that.  Dean himself was obviously still here too, when, looking at his car, he definitely shouldn’t have been.

The music turned back to Zeppelin and “When The Levee Breaks” _,_ and Dean tried to turn his attention to it and away from his discomforting daydreams.

_If it keeps on rainin’, levee’s goin’ to break._

Cas had mentioned the events to come, but Dean wasn’t convinced that the angel knew exactly what they were. And how could he be the one to save everyone? Dean gritted his teeth. He wasn’t special; how could anyone be foolish enough to think so?

_Cryin’ won’t help you, prayin’ won’t do you no good._

Dean fumbled the bolt that he was holding onto and swore as it hit the ground with a small clang. He picked up the bolt, closing his fist around it so that it couldn’t escape again, and took a moment to compose himself before getting back to the car again. It was a small relief when the song ended and the live ‘71 recording of “The Whipping Post” _,_ by the Allman Brothers Band began to play. This song, Dean thought, was a much more accurate depiction of how he was feeling. He pieced his car together, his mood picking up enough that he found himself singing along, first in a quiet mumble, then increasing to a loud yell.

“Sometimes I feel!” he cried, “Aw, sometimes I feeeel, like I’ve been tied, duhnuh duhnuhnuh,” his voice dropped to a growl when he imitated the guitar parts, “to the whipping post! Tied! Duhnuh duhnuhnuh! To the whipping post, oh Lord I feel like I’m dying.”

As the song faded out, Dean felt more optimistic than he’d been for a few days. He was finally able to take a step back and look at his handy work. He’d need to add one last coat of paint to the new parts, paint which Cas had provided and which had been meticulously matched to the old, and Dean would probably also give the Impala a waxing when done. Dean worked and found himself singing along to more of his music, even throwing in the occasional dance move. By the end, he was waxing his baby until she shone, listening to “Love Her Madly” _,_ by the Doors, and cooing the occasional phrase to his car.

“Don’t you love her madly… Don’t you love her ways… Don’t you love her as she’s walking out the door…”

When all was done, Dean came out of the garage with a grin on his face. He took a deep breath, the weight that seemed to have attached itself to his diaphragm after the incident finally releasing him, and looked out at the lake. The sun shone down on it causing a glare that made Dean squint, but the water underneath was a pensive, cobalt blue.

_Like Castiel’s eyes._

The thought came unbidden into Dean’s consciousness causing his smile to immediately drop. He sighed. How could he ever let go?

 

The beginning of a cold fall brought the pale yellow possibility of death to all the trees, scattering it throughout the leaves. Dean sat on his rocking chair on the back porch of his home, a cold beer in one hand, a worn out Vonnegut in the other, and watched as strong breeze sent shoals of waves skittering across the surface of the lake ahead of him. He had not heard from Castiel since the first time, and, once he’d fixed the Impala, had begun the process of forgetting.

But he couldn’t. Nothing short of retrograde amnesia could cause Dean to forget the other world, from the journey there to the visions that seemed to fall out of his mind and into reality. Nor could he erase the idea of other species like Gatekeepers, though Dean had decided to make things less complicated by thinking of them as angels. And _the_ angel. It had only taken the short span of one day, but Dean had stared for too long into those strange, blue eyes for them not to be seared into his mind.

Everything about it was wild. Dean didn’t think he’d ever truly comprehend any of it, from the void to his new acquaintance’s immortality. Especially when two things like these were so very different. On one hand, the in-between of the two worlds changed with the blink of an eye, Dean’s wish was its whim, and he expected that it would be the kind of place where one’s life could flash before their eyes.

But on the other hand, this Cas… He was quiescent, and time flowed around him like a creek around a boulder. Immortal, Dean thought. Perhaps this meant that whatever ‘soon’ was to Cas, was in fact a lifetime for Dean, and he may never even see the angel again. Or maybe that idea was just a myth, and Cas would turn up tomorrow morning. God only knew.


	2. Chapter 2

Castiel’s mission with Dean had not gone quite as he’d wanted. Cas wasn’t technically supposed to make contact until it was time. At least, that’s what his orders were, though it did seem foolish to Cas to turn up on this man’s doorstep and expect him to immediately do their bidding. But Cas had watched Dean long enough to know that he had a reckless sense of adventure, and there was no real worry that Dean wouldn’t come along with him. 

And now it was time to move on to the next stage. At least, that’s what Cas assumed as he made his way to his superior’s office. He had been summoned, and a summoning could only mean one of two things: orders or punishment. 

Cas walked down the long, silver corridor, nodding to the few Gatekeepers he passed. He turned the corner and saw through the glass doors into the room at the end of the hall. His boss, Naomi, was sitting at her steel desk, signing papers. Her obsessive neatness unnerved even Cas, especially knowing all the rough, messy things she’d done, albeit under orders, to get to the position she was in now. Naomi didn’t look up or speak when he walked into the room and stood before her, and he didn’t sit in one of the cushy, white chairs on offer.   

“You sent for me,” stated Cas, breaking the silence.

“Yes,” said Naomi, putting her pen down and looking up at him. “We’ve decided that we must act now. Enough reports of Oathbreakers amassing in Heart have reached us and too many have been slipping into Rathe. Take your charge and recover the weapon.”

This was pretty much what Cas had been expecting when he got called into Naomi’s office. “Where is the weapon?” Cas asked, taking his first step in the back and forth dance of trying to wring as much information out of her as possible. 

She countered deviously, “I can’t tell you. In case anyone got intercepted, the location has been kept secret.”

There was no room for subtlety or games, Cas decided. “Then what are my orders?”

“Pick up the human and go to Chuck, he will know what’s next for you,” said Naomi. “Do as the prophet says, retrieve the weapon, drop off the human, and come straight back here.”

“And what if there are complications?” he questioned.

Naomi waved her hand vaguely. “Deal with them however you see fit just as long as we get what we want, and the weapon doesn’t fall into enemy hands.” She fixed him with an inescapable stare. “Is everything clear?”

“Yes,” Cas conceded, knowing that he would just have to find a way to work with what little she had given him.

“Then go. There’s not a moment to lose.”

Cas nodded sharply and turned to leave. As he was opening the door, Naomi spoke once more. “Keep the human in check, Castiel. We don’t want him ruining anything for us. And don’t stay too long in Rathe. You know what will happen if you do.”

“I understand,” replied Cas, a little more tersely than he had intended. He left without a second glance and did not uncurl his fists until he rounded the corner. Cas walked through the building until he found a quieter hallway where he stopped to think. The wall that he leaned back against felt cold through his overcoat and the hair on his head. 

An ache had grown behind his eyes, and he clamped them shut to try to alleviate the pain. In the darkness of his eyelids, Cas saw the void in which he and Dean had fallen into. Though they were worlds apart, the man’s thoughts continued to push into his. Cas felt the confusion, the awe, and the fear. He saw intermittent flashes of green and blue, black and white.

The thoughts began to solidify into one specific thing. He saw his own face in the beginning, cold and hard, blue eyes blazing, but by the end he could hardly recognize himself. Cas wondered if he hadn’t walked into a house of mirrors where the reflections become more and more distorted the further one goes. A Picasso painting would’ve been more accurate than what he was seeing, but the one thing that was constant was his eyes - far bluer than he thought they should be. 

At the sound of someone approaching, Cas’ eyes flicked open. He saw walking up to him a slight woman with gentle-looking face and short brown hair. 

“Hannah,” said Cas in greeting.

“Castiel,” she replied. “Everything’s moving, I see.”

He almost wondered how she knew about this so soon after his meeting with Naomi, but he’d passed a colleague or two on the way in and Gatekeepers were chatterboxes. “Yes, the wait is over,” Cas answered. “I head out in the morning.”

She tried to give him a smile, but it was so forced that instead she just sighed. “Isn’t it a bit drastic that we should use this weapon to wipe out all Oathbreakers?”

Cas was not particularly surprised at her, but pretended to be nonetheless. “You know they would do the same to us. It may be drastic, but it’s necessary. ”

“Well, Castiel, you should know that many of our kin trust you and will follow you no matter what happens.”

“Thank you,” said Cas, carefully, somewhat cautioned by her sudden pledge of allegiance. 

Hannah smiled at him completely innocently. “Good luck,” she said, reaching up to squeeze his arm. Cas thanked her again as she walked off down the hall. But she was right, everything was moving, and he had to keep going as well. The first stop was Dean. 

 

When Cas arrived, Dean had his keys in his hand and was just about to leave for work. The man stood frozen, looking up at him like he was seeing a ghost.

“Hello, Dean.”

“Cas.”

“It’s time,” said Cas. He added no further context.

“Woah, hold up. I have a job and a life and you think you can just stop by, say ‘It’s time’, and I’ll just drop everything for you?”

“Yes,” spoke Cas, so authoritatively that half the molecules in the air stood to attention. He saw Dean wait for a moment, as if he was pretending to make up his mind. But Cas already knew what the answer was going to be.

“I’ll call in sick.”

As Dean made the call, Cas wandered around the lower level of the house. Snippets of Dean’s phone conversation could be heard, such as, “Really feel like shit… probably ate something… won’t be in today or Friday either… Thank you so much, Ellen… Yeah, see you Monday…”

Moving around the living room, Cas was very careful not to touch anything, but he couldn’t help lightly brushing his fingers over a small, stone angel that Dean’s mother had given to him.

“My mom always told me that angels were watching over me,” a voice spoke quietly from the doorframe. “Guess she was more right than she knew.” Cas nodded but didn’t reply. “Everything’s sorted at work; I’m all yours now. Though I don’t exactly know why. I mean, what would you’ve done if I’d said no?”

“You wouldn’t have,” Cas stated. “I knew you’d come with me.”

“How?” 

“I heard you pray.”

“Pray!” Dean objected, “I don’t pray.”

“Ok, then. Not pray. But I often occupied your consciousness, and while usually they’re only flickers of a thought, yours were so persistent that I couldn’t ignore them.”

The man appeared somewhat enraged. “What, so you’re mind reading me now as well?”

“No, I can only see what you’re thinking about me, although it does get very distorted through the void.” 

“Distorted how?” It was apparent that Dean’s anger had simmered into curiosity.

“Images. Sensations. I see enough to know you want to go back. You want to help, and you want to do the right thing, but you can’t stop thinking about the possibilities of the other world.” The vision of the mirror-house flashed through his mind. Something about it made him pause before he admitted what he saw to Dean. “I also see myself in your thoughts; though I hardly recognized my image, and I swear my eyes aren’t that blue.”

Dean blushed. “Alright. Anyways, it doesn’t matter. I said I’d come with you when we first met, and I’m not gonna go back on that now.”

“Then let’s go.”

“That’s it? You just turn up, then ‘let’s go’, and there’s-” Dean stopped and ran a hand over his face. He took a deep breath.  “Yeah, ok, fine.”

Cas turned to leave, but Dean called out to him. “Wait! Hold up a sec, do I need anything: food, clothes, money?” Dean asked, listing off some basic supplies that, considering Cas was wearing the exact same clothes as when they’d first met, didn’t really mean much to him.

He shook his head. “We’ll find what we need in Rathe,” he said. “Anyway, your money wouldn’t work there.”

Cas could tell that Dean didn’t entirely trust this answer, but after only a moment’s hesitation, the man conceded. 

“Then let’s go.” He walked past Cas and lead them both out of the back door.

Dean sauntered down the steps of his porch and onto his well kept yard. As he turned to face Cas, a new, goofy smile on his face, the sunlight caught Dean’s eyes and Cas saw that they were as green as the freshly mown grass beneath his feet.

“Alright, beam me up, Scotty!” Dean said sticking his arms out. Cas followed him down the few stairs, but only frowned at Dean. “What, first no Tolkien and now you don’t have Star Trek either in the other Earth?” he gasped in mock horror.

“Put your arms down,” Cas commanded. “As long as you don’t struggle like last time, I only need to keep a hand on you.”

Dean sighed. “Fine.” He put his arms back down and stood very still. The last thing that Cas saw before he spirited them both away was Dean squeezing his eyes shut.


	3. Chapter 3

The first thing Dean noticed when they landed in Rathe was that Cas had his wings again. Standing up close to them, Dean was now able to see that they weren’t the pitch black he’d assumed them to be. Cas’ wings were a rich, midnight blue, like the sky on the night of a new moon. As he stared at the wings, they slowly folded up until they stood vertically behind the angel. Dean blushed again as he noticed Cas watching him. He cleared his throat.

“Alright, so what are we doing here? What’s the plan?” Dean inquired.

“We have to go to Chuck, someone who lives somewhere in these parts. He will tell us what to do.”

“‘Somewhere in these parts’? You mean you don’t know where he lives?”

“Of course I know. We just have to follow this path over this ridge, down into the valley, and up the side of the next mountain.” And without heeding Dean’s sputtering protests, Cas set off up the path.

Dean grumbled as he followed behind Cas. He was wary and unsure of how this travel would go, especially considering he thought of his companion as the epitome of the song “Bad Company” by the band Bad Company from their smash hit album _Bad Company_.

As he caught up to Cas, Dean attempted a new line of questioning. “So, why are we walking? I mean, is this where you wanted us to land, or do you just have bad aim? Can we go back to Earth, then we can fly into Rathe again and get closer to this Chuck guy?”

“We’re exactly where I planned for us to be. You must be wondering why we didn’t just drop straight into Chuck’s house,” Cas noted, sounding somewhat contemptuous at Dean’s implication about his aim.

Dean hesitated, “Yeah, well, I thought we were just being polite, y’know, didn’t want to kick down the front door.”

“Yes, but there’s something else. Rathe has large parcels of land that are warded from any entry by non-mechanical means. Chuck’s house and many of the nearby towns are all protected within one circle.”

“Ok, but if you have wings, why can’t we just fly normally?” Dean asked, despite his fear of the act.

“ _I_ could fly but I wouldn’t be able to carry you very far.”

“You making a comment about my weight, Cas?”

“My wings are very large even by Gatekeeper standards,” protested Cas, a sliver of pride affecting his voice. Dean raised his eyebrows, a slew of dick jokes jumping to his mind, but he thought better of it. “But they still couldn’t carry both myself and a fully grown man very far.”

“Alright, alright, I was only joking. Hey, y’know how when you fly across the borders in from Earth to here, you kind of fold space, like Event Horizon style, well,” Dean chuckled, “bad analogy there… but if we could do the same just within this world.”

“That’s not really how that works, Dean. That only happens when I cross the boundary,” Cas admonished.

“Well, fine then.” Not wanting to look at Cas for fear of inadvertently punching him in the face, Dean sped up and stepped in front of Cas to be in the lead. As he did so, he mumbled, “Shit, shoot down all my ideas why don’t you.”

“I’m only shooting down the ones that aren’t feasible,” said Cas haughtily. He then added in a far more insolent voice, “Which, right now, seems to be all of them.”

Whatever Dean’s angry retort was going to be vanished. “Did you just make a joke?”

“Our kind are not as completely humorless as you seem to believe. And besides, flying would attract too much unwanted attention.”

“Right, and your wings won’t?” Dean turned back to gesture to the feathery monstrosities on Cas’ back, but to his great surprise, they were no longer there. He stopped in his tracks, gaping.

“I can make them… imperceptible,” said Cas in response to Dean’s gormless face. “Like when you first saw me you didn’t see my wings until I allowed you to.” He paused for a moment then corrected himself. “Well, I say ‘allowed’, but I can’t hide them when I’m using them. And I had to use them to get you out of there.”

Dean nodded vaguely, then returned to his original course down the path.

“So what you’re saying is we have a lot of walking to do,” he said resignedly. “And you could fly, but you can’t do your little apparition trick.”

Cas nodded. “Fortunately, Chuck’s home is on the very outskirts of the border, and it should only take us twenty minutes to get there, provided we don’t get caught up in anything.”

“Who’re we going to encounter here? Robin Hood and his band of Merry Men?”

“It’s near impossible for the Oathbreakers to get through to Earth, but it’s far easier for them to get through to Rathe, and this world isn’t as well guarded by my kind,” Cas explained patiently. “Even though we’re walking through warded territory, this area isn’t highly populated, and there are more places for them to hide. Although I would be able to fight off a few of these creatures, were we to be attacked, you would be torn to shreds.”

“Well fuck you too, Mr. Optimistic!” Dean huffed. “Don’t you remember I made the wrestling team in high school?”

Cas gave Dean a funny look. “That’s a very literal interpretation of my watching over you.”

“What?”

“I was almost never physically there.”

“Oh.”

“Were you imagining someone following you around and spying in your house?”

“Well, no, but…” Dean stopped. Actually, that had been exactly what he imagined. He supposed that this was why Cas didn’t understand any of his pop culture references. It was probably a good thing; there was _plenty_ of stuff that he’d felt embarrassed about Castiel seeing.

“I was sensing, more than anything,” said Cas calmly, “staying aware of your surroundings. Similar to how I picked up on what you were thinking after our first meeting.”

“But I didn’t know you before I met you,” Dean argued, then cringed at how stupid he’d sounded. “So I wasn’t thinking about you. You said you could only pick up on my thoughts because they were directed at you.”

“Those thoughts about me, I can’t block out. But I can hone in on an open mind, and be aware or ignorant of another person as I choose.”

Dean simply made a ‘huh’ noise in reply. At this point, the incline had become steep enough that he was not inclined to speak anymore.    

As he finally reached the top and walked over the ridge and into the shallow saddle between the two peaks, Dean noticed that the ground had become covered in shattered chips and shards of branches. There were still many trees standing, shading the majority of the path, but they were widely spaced, giving the surroundings a clear, fresh feeling. The tree trunks were dark red, however the wood on the ground was missing its bark. Once the bark was gone, the chips had been left exposed to the elements. They had been stripped of all color, and as the sun now shone on them again, they created a grey glow that emanated from the forest floor.

Dean kept telling himself that this place was just like Earth, but he could no longer fight the feeling that it wasn’t, nor was it ever going to be. He realized that the people they would meet might not even be human; hell, Cas wasn’t. Thinking of this ‘Chuck’ that they were going to meet, Dean’s mind flipped through every alien-related horror movie he’d watched. His skin began to crawl.

“So who’s this Chuck guy?” Dean blurted, unable to keep to himself. “Is he another Gatekeeper?”

“Not exactly. His kind is a subset of our species. He doesn’t have wings, nor does he have the powers that we do, but he has a special ability of his own.”

“What can he do, predict the future?” Dean joked.

“Actually, yes. Generally speaking.”

“Well… fuck me,” muttered Dean to himself.

Cas blazed over Dean’s little comment. “Chuck is a prophet. We need to talk to him to find out where the weapon is.”

“Ah,” said Dean, sagely. “I’m beginning to get the feeling that in the near future I’ll have to decide whether I want to know how I die or not.”

Cas snorted. “No. His visions aren’t that specific, and, hopefully, he doesn’t see that far into the future.”

Dean went silent again.

The trees were getting larger as they walked down hill, and this time, the ones standing were too beginning to lack their bark. Bleached and sunburned, they looked like the gravestones for some great battle many years ago. Dark braille phrases encircled them from trunk to branch like wounds gouged out of the wood.

The path reached the bottom of the valley and turned to go up the next mountain side. It followed the small creek that wound upward, before a switchback lead it out of the hollow. The trees also continued up the opposite slope, but more sparsely this time. The pale wood turned the mountain a blue grey hue.

As Dean looked past Cas, he saw a homely log cabin backed up against the mountain, seated amidst the wooden graveyard. The surrounding trees, whose stripped bark made them look like still ghosts waiting for the relief of ascension to a new realm, stood guard over this house.

They worked their way through these sentries up to the green front door of the little cabin. Cas reached out and knocked on the door. As they stood waiting, Dean heard some scuffling in the house and a _thunk,_ as if something had just been knocked over. The door then creaked open, and a man wearing a dressing gown over only a white shirt and his underwear stepped out. He was holding a full coffee mug and an I-woke-up-five-minutes-ago expression. Dean raised an eyebrow.

“Uh, hey, guys,” said Chuck. “I guess you must be Castiel,” he looked over at Cas for a second before turning to Dean, “and you must be Dean Winchester.” Dean suppressed the urge make a snarky comment about the man’s fortune telling ability. “C’mon in,” Chuck said as he stepped back from the door, opening it wider to reveal the messy insides of his house. Cas entered, and Dean followed in after him, careful of where he tread as scrolls and papers littered the floor. The door shut behind him, and they were cast in darkness until Chuck opened the curtains, and sunlight came streaming through the windows.

“You guys can sit.” Chuck gestured to something that looked vaguely like a sofa. Cas and Dean sat, but Chuck did not. He stood in front of them and pointed at his mug. “Would you like some?”

Only Dean answered in the affirmative; Cas just shook his head. Chuck smiled and wiggled his eyebrows saying, “Ah, the perks of being me!” before going to what must’ve been the kitchen. Dean glanced over at Cas who was perched upright on the edge of his seat. Cas turned to Dean, and they gave each other a look, both equally judgemental of their host.

In a few minutes, Chuck returned and handed Dean a piping hot cup of coffee. Dean thanked the man who, after brushing away some errant papers, sat opposite the pair, still in the shade of the half opened curtains.

Cas was the first to talk. “We’re here to ask you where the-”

“Where the weapon is,” Chuck interrupted. “Yeah, I know.” He took a sip of his coffee, and as the liquid ran down his throat, Dean could’ve sworn he’d seen a flash of red streak down the prophet’s skin. “I’m afraid I’m gonna create more questions than I’ll answer for you two.”

“But do you know where the weapon is?” asked Dean, tearing his gaze away from Chuck’s neck.

“It’s in a lake.”

“Right.” Dean honestly wasn’t that surprised. Ease of access was never included in these sorts of reclamation journeys. “Well, do you know where this lake is?”

“No, that’s the problem.” Chuck sighed. “I can give you as much detail about it as possible, but you’ll have to talk to someone else who knows more about the geography than I do.”

Dean had taken a too large gulp of his coffee which had burned the back of his throat.

“Who?” he coughed.

“There’s a traveler and a trader living in Boltar called Dorothy.”

“That’s just south of here,” said Cas.

“Yep, it’s the first town you get to. She’ll know - she knows every inch of this land.”

“So, back to the lake,” said Dean, his mouth still feeling raw and his voice weak. “Can you draw us a picture of it?”

Chuck laughed. “No way; I’m a writer, not an artist. I’ll just tell you as much as I see.” Chuck closed his eyes for a moment, recalling his vision. “The lake is in a crater. It’s in the middle of a field which is surrounded by a dense forest that covers the rocky ridge that protects the lake from view.”

“How close will I be able to land to it?” Cas asked.

“It’s kept within its own boundary, so you can fly up to fifty feet away from the forest’s edge.”

There was some awkward silence. Cas, it appeared, had no more questions, and Chuck sat twiddling his thumbs around his coffee mug.

“Is that it then? Is that all you have for us?” Dean asked, his temper rising a little. He leaned forward, looking angrily between Chuck and Cas. “I don’t understand why you need me for any of this.”

Chuck answered him. “Dean, Cas won’t be able to retrieve the weapon from the lake. It has to be a human, and one from the other side.”

“That still doesn’t explain why me. Why not any of the other billions of people?”

Chuck shrugged, spreading his free hand, palm skyward. “I’m just a prophet. I don’t have that information.”   

With a curse, Dean slumped back in his seat, rolling his eyes. He took another drink of his coffee.

Chuck continued, “I’m glad it’s you two on this mission together. I haven’t seen what happens next, but I have a feeling things’ll work out.”

As Dean finished up the last of his drink, the smell of coffee started to fade and be replaced by the smell of unwashed socks and a decade worth of dust. He looked over at the prophet, wondering how anyone could stand to live in this place for so long. Chuck didn’t seem to be aware of Dean’s gaze. Instead, he was focusing on the small table, nodding to himself a little.

On Dean’s other side, Cas shifted uncomfortably. It was clear to Dean that he wanted to leave, and he couldn’t agree more.

Dean broke the silence. “We should probably get going.”

“Oh good, ok.” Chuck spoke quickly, looking relieved then contrite. “Sorry, I just have a lot to get done.”

“We’ll leave you to it then. Thank you.”

Cas and Dean got up, Dean setting his empty mug on the table by his knees, and they both started off toward the door.

“Wait!” Chuck stopped them. “I forgot to tell you guys, Dorothy’s house is the grey stone building that stands a little apart from the rest of the town. She might not be there but Charlie will be, and the password is Crookshanks.”

Dean narrowed his eyes at this, but Cas was chivvying him out the door before he could ask.

The fresh scent of the outdoors was a pleasant change from the staleness of the inside of the cabin. Cas cut ahead of Dean and, once they’d gotten away from Chuck’s house, began to lead him down a path different to the one they’d come from.  

“How far is it to Boltar or whatever?” Dean asked.

"A couple hours or less.”

Dean sighed, resigned. He mentally told himself to think of it as a nice hike. A nice hike in a fantasy world where something could be lurking behind one of the trees, waiting to tear him to shreds, debone his body, and eat him for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Hopefully in that order. A nice hike in a fantasy world where his guide was a suspiciously attractive, thousands of years old, shouldn’t even exist creature with a deadpan sense of humor and an attitude to match.

A nice hike, Dean thought, laughing to himself.  

“Hey, Cas? Tell me, how different is Rathe from Earth? I mean, judging from our walking and the general lack of cars and all, it seems kind of behind the times.”

“Earth is,” Cas was quiet for a moment, as though he was choosing his next words carefully, “technologically more advanced than here. That being said, these two worlds are different, and even though we call them parallel, they don’t follow the same timeline. As you can guess, Rathe is a less forgiving place, and the people here have not had it as easy as you.”

Images of Earth some centuries ago flash through Dean’s mind, with peasants and castles and knights in shining armor.

“I don’t know if this is just me projecting my medieval fantasies, but won’t our clothes stick out?”

Cas looked at him slyly. “The people see what they want to see,” he answered. Dean grunted, not really sure if that made any sense.

“So, uh, speaking of clothes, how do your wings not punch holes through yours?”

Without missing a beat, Cas replied, “Diffusion.” Dean faltered.

“Y’know, I had to take chemistry in high school _and_ college, and I’m pretty sure that’s not how that works…”

A micro-smile flickered across Cas’ face. “People see what they want to see,” he repeated. Now Dean definitely had no idea what he was talking about.

He huffed, “Will you stop being so fucking cryptic? I’m not a child.”

“I’m sorry, Dean. It’s just - I don’t want to freak you out any more.” Cas seemed genuinely apologetic.

“Look, buddy, my freak-out-o-meter has reached its maximum already. Anything else you say won’t make any difference.”

“Alright. What’s really going on is that no one here is human.”

A humph came from Dean. He was silent a moment, trying to process, before he realized that his freak-out-o-meter had not, in fact, reached its max. At least, it hadn’t until Cas had offered up that little piece of information. Dean tried to keep his calm, but his voice had raised a couple pitches.

“Care to elaborate?” he asked.

“I know, we all look human up until we don’t,” said Cas. “It’s mostly a defense mechanism, so we can reveal or hide our distinguishing features as we choose.”

“But your wings are visible when you use them.”

“Usage will render any addition visible, and there are different weaknesses for different features.”

“So you guys have your own kryptonite,” Dean summarized. “What’s yours?”

“A Gatekeeper’s weakness is water. This isn’t a bad one, unless our wings come in direct contact with a lot of it.”

“Alright then, no hot tubbing for you,” Dean quipped, saying the first thing that came to mind in such a situation. He thought for a moment. “What about Chuck?”

“As a prophet, when he dreams about the future his entire body becomes covered in burning red runes. This is also true for if he gets too hot.”

“Hence the minimalist clothing and the closed curtains.” The red flash Dean has seen when Chuck had drank his coffee suddenly made a lot more sense.

Cas nodded.

Dean was now eerily aware that they were heading into a town where there would be plenty of other ‘people’. He wondered about Dorothy. “So how will we know who’s what? I mean, I know it’s rude to set people alight in Earth so I presume it’s the same in Rathe.” Anyways, setting Chuck on fire would’ve told him nothing that Castiel couldn’t have.

“We won’t know.”

That was comforting. Dean shivered as he remembered once more the smoke in his car, and asked, “I suppose this applies to demons too, so how will we know the good from the bad?”

“It’s true, they could be anyone, but once an Oathbreaker has spent enough time in Heart, their eyes turn black.”

“Spent time in Heart?”

“It’s like our own poorly kept prison,” said Cas simply.

“Good God you guys are ruthless!” Dean exclaimed. “Do you just throw anyone in there who steps out of line?”

“No, there are other punishments for minor misdemeanors. But here, everyone’s a monster of some sort, all hiding under a human disguise. We have to have a firm code of conduct to keep the peace, so once the community has decided they can’t trust someone, that’s it. There can’t be any room for mistakes.”

“Holy fuck.”

 

It took a couple minutes for Dean’s shock to settle, but once it had, the two of them chatted for the next hour of their journey. Or, rather, Dean would ask the wildest questions he could think of and Cas would answer in as few words as possible.

As they walked, Dean noticed a huge rock face off in the distance that loomed over the surroundings. He couldn’t see what was on the other side, but in answer to one of his more simple questions, Cas had told him that their destination, Boltar, was behind this landmark. While the cliff looked impassable, Dean could just about see the path through it. There was a chasm that cut directly through the rock, wide enough for four men standing abreast, and Dean thought that these two rock walls were an accurate representation of parting of the Red Sea.

Dean looked over at Cas and frowned, thinking for a moment.

“You seem different from our first talk on Earth. I don’t know, lighter?”

It took a moment for Cas to react. “I was born in Rathe ages ago,” he established. Dean looked up at the sky in exasperation as he prepared for another completely opaque and evasive answer, wishing, not for the first time, that he’d kept his mouth shut. “Once we are old enough, the elders of our race pull children out to train them to do their duty as Gatekeepers. We take a sort of aptitude test to determine in which location we are best suited.”

“What do you mean, best suited?”

“Earth and Rathe,” Cas considered, “change personalities. Everyone is different in each world. In Earth, I’m everything they want me to be, a soldier, a leader, I do what needs to be done.” He looked down at the feet moving in steady rhythm in front of him. “In Rathe, I am, as my superiors would say, defective.”

Dean made a face. The angel seemed perfectly fine to him. He asked, “And what does that mean?”

“In here, I become more human,” Cas said.

“But surely that can’t be a bad thing.” Dean was unsure if it was his own humanity that was making him feel defensive.

Cas pressed his lips together. “The other Gatekeepers don’t see it that way.”

“You don’t seem that different.”

“It takes time for the transformation to complete.”

There was something still that gave Dean pause. “So, does that mean I’ll change too?”

“Yes.”

“Then…” Cas kept telling him he was some sort of hero, even though he didn’t feel like one now. Would Rathe change all that? Was Cas and the other Gatekeepers seeing that version of himself? He finished his sentence, “who will I become?”

However, Cas simply answered, “I don’t know. Only time will tell.”

“How long do I have?” Dean asked. Perhaps it would be soon and he wouldn’t have to worry anymore about not being fit for the task.

“We may be gone from here before anything changes. It takes a while for anything to happen the first time after crossing the boundaries, then less time every crossover continuing,” said Cas. Dean’s heart sank ever so slightly. Cas continued, “You have less to worry about than I do. While I’ve spent the majority of my life on Earth, I have been here on a couple missions and will change before you.”

Here was his one hope, Dean thought. This must’ve been what everyone in this dimension had seen in him and why they had watched over him his whole life. It did leave him feeling somewhat adrift, however, that he had to become someone else to be important. But Dean supposed that it made sense that way; in the end, in Earth, he was really just a tree in a forest of similar trees.

It took them almost another half hour to reach the bottom of the rocks.

From standing right in front of them, the cliffs looked as though they rose as high as the sky. They were teal with pink brindle, like two icy, vertical streams ribbed with salmon. Dean’s gazed followed the salmon trying desperately to swim upstream and as his eyes found the top of the rocky cliffs he could swear he saw a shadow flicker.

“Cas,” he whispered, moving ever so slightly into the angel’s personal space without drawing attention, “I think we’re being watched.”

“We are,” Cas confirmed. “We’re getting close to the town.”

“Will they bother us?”

“No, but we will have to pass a checkpoint not too far ahead.”

“A checkpoint?” Thoughts of police interrogations came into Dean’s mind. “Do we have a story?”

“A story?”

“Yeah, a fucking story,” Dean growled, keeping his voice low. “You said we should keep a low profile or are we just going to tell the truth?”

“Lying could get us into even more trouble.”

“Doesn’t matter. Look, just leave it to me,” said Dean. Cas cast a quick and curious glance over at Dean but said nothing more.

They reached the end of the ravine before anything happened. The medium-sized but quite sprawled town was visible to Dean briefly before a woman stepped in front of him, blocking his view.

Her dark skin was matched in warmth by the red leather jacket she wore but not by placid, unwelcoming expression on her face. The woman’s wide, brown eyes studied the boys, sizing them up and singling out every weakness. When she spoke, her voice was soft, but Dean could’ve understood every word from a mile away.

“They call me Billie, and I am the guardian of this realm,” she stated. “Now I have given you my name and purpose, and so you shall give me yours.”

“Right, yes,” said Dean, flashing a winning smile. “I’m Truman,” he pointed at himself, then at Cas, “and this is Cooper, and we’re traders.”

“Traders?” She cast a mock glance at the empty space over Dean’s shoulder. “Funny, you don’t seem to have anything to trade.”

“We’re hoping to pick it up. In Boltar.”

“You don’t seem to know the definition of ‘trade’,” she emphasized the last word.

“We have a contract,” Dean improvised, “with Dorothy.”

“Fine. But you should know that she’s out right now. Doing actual trading.”

“Well, we’ll find lodging somewhere and just wait until she gets back.”

“I’d’ve thought that you would know when she was at home. Y’know, if you have a contract and all. Nevermind.” She now turned to Cas. “And who are you who’s so quiet?”

“I’m his bodyguard. I’m not here to talk.”

Dean almost lost his poker face. It was a good answer, and one that he wasn’t expecting.

She snickered. “Ok, boys. You’re free to go through. But I’d best not being hearing about anything suspicious from either of you, understood?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Billie stepped aside and Dean and Cas walked past her. Once they’d gotten a far enough distance away, Cas rounded on Dean.

“Do you know how close we were to being caught? Traders? What sort of fool would believe that story?”

“Relax! We’re here, we made it, we just have to keep our heads down until we leave.”

“We’ve only drawn more attention to ourselves,” argued Cas. “And what sort of names are Cooper and Truman? I mean, you have no idea what people are called around here and knowing my name is Castiel should’ve cautioned you about using Earth names.”  

“Aw, cut the bullshit, Cas,” he groaned. “We were just talking to a guy named Chuck.”

Cas huffed, but Dean did have a point.

“We’ll be fine,” Dean started, but a growl interrupted what he was going to say next. He looked down at his stomach then back up at Cas. “Well, I might not be if I don’t eat something soon.” His stomach growled again. “It must be after lunch time. You guys have lunch right?”

“I don’t. I don’t get hungry in Rathe,” said Cas, surprising Dean again. “But the other people do, so we can stop into a place before heading up to Dorothy’s.”

“You don’t eat in Rathe? At all?” Cas shook his head. Dean furrowed his eyebrows, frustrated that even after what Cas said the two of them were still so different, but he tried to brush it off. “That’s ok, I’m sure the food on Earth is better, and besides, nothing compares to my cooking, right?” He playfully nudged Cas in the ribs with his elbow, but got no response other than sullen silence.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

They walked into the first reasonable looking tavern they saw in Boltar. It was musty and dim but strangely captivating, and though there were a few other people sitting around, the place was fairly quiet. He examined the people around him, but Dean could find nothing unusual about any of them, not even the robust server, whose wooden leg clacked on the floor as he brought over Dean’s meal.

Dean was right; the food here was average, but the ale was good. Cas paid the man with a couple tiny, dodecahedron shaped coins of a translucent yet incredibly dark red color. A frown crossed Dean’s face as he watched the money disappear into one of the man’s pockets. Maybe Cas had made a good point about the fake names, for there was so little that Dean truly knew about the ways of this world.

He ate in an uncomfortable silence, and when he had cleared his plate, the two of them left promptly. No one even gave them a second glance as they walked out the door. Outside, Dean looked around to see if he could find anything that matched the description of Dorothy’s house. Cas had pointed it out when they were walking down to Boltar, but the unfamiliarity of the place combined with the time spent inside for lunch had disoriented Dean a little. It seemed, however, that Cas was not having this problem as he set off down the road.

Boltar was fairly large in size, and while their destination stood slightly aside from the more populated part of the town, it was still approximately halfway between where Dean and Cas entered and the opposite side. The tavern had also not been far from the center of the town, so as the pair walked away from it, they found themselves wandering down into the heart of Boltar. The streets became a little more busy, and traders had carts out filled with their wares.

The road that Cas and Dean were on finally opened up into a market square. A traditional tiered fountain stood in the middle of the square, and it was surrounded by vendors with their goods spread out in a pattern that spiraled away from the center. Children dashed under the carts, chasing each other around the square, sometimes earning a yell from one of the traders or a laugh from one of the customers. Despite what Cas had said about the clothing, everyone was decked in a colorful array of cloth. It was, Dean supposed, what he wanted to see as it was what he thought of when he pictured a medieval market.

Out across the other side of the market, Dean could see more mountains ahead of him. They were much taller than the ones they had just came from, but they were also much further away. Small splotches of snow on these mountains were visible, and they were as white as the clouds that were beginning to form behind them.

Cas wanted to get to Dorothy’s quickly, but Dean couldn’t just leave without exploring the rich hive that was the market square. Working his way around the fountain, he saw merchants with fruits, some that looked familiar and some that didn’t; merchants with spun gold forming delicate, spindly instruments, for what purpose he had no idea; merchants displaying robes of busy patterns and rich colors in every shape and size, and some with room for appendages a normal human body didn’t have; merchants brewing potions that shimmered in crystal decanters, whose mists of various scents wafted towards Dean, enchanting, hypnotizing, and repelling him all at the same time.

Finally, the circles wound closer and closer, bringing him to the center of the market. As Dean walked toward the fountain, he saw that a strange red glow seemed to be emitting from the lowest tier. He walked up to the edge and peered in. Thousands of the coins he’d seen Cas pay with covered the bottom, making the basin of the fountain look like it was filled with blood. There was something so captivating about the water that despite all the warning bells going off in his head, Dean sat down by the fountain and reached his hand in.

The stones felt cold as he grabbed a few and pulled them to the surface. They glittered, but only for a second before something had knocked them out of Dean’s hand. With small splashes, the coins landed back in the water where they slowly returned to their partners. A set of fingers was wrapped tightly around Dean’s wrist as Cas dragged him away from the fountain.

“What were you thinking?” he snarled under his breath. “People were watching you.”

As Dean glanced around he noticed a couple of people looking at him curiously. “Nothing-”

“So you weren’t thinking at all, then?”

“I mean it was nothing; I was just curious. Will you fucking let go of me?”

Dean tried to pull away from Cas forcefully and was surprised to find that he had already released his wrist. He stumbled backward, tripped on some basket by his feet, and fell right into a merchant’s cart. Fortunately, it was full of clothing, so the landing was soft, but this also meant that it was hard to get up from. Clothes kept falling in on him and all he could heard was the person behind the cart yelling obscenities. Dean reached out a hand blindly, and in an instant, Cas had grabbed ahold and yanked him back upright.

“I’m sorry!” Dean tried to say to the merchant. He would’ve helped clean up, but Cas was already dragging him away and out of the square.

“What are you doing? Will you let me go back and apologize? Properly?”

“No. We have to get out of here.”

“Why? What’s going on?”

Cas didn’t answer at first. Instead he grabbed the sleeve of Dean’s jacket and pulled him into a dark, narrow alley. He trapped Dean against the brick wall. “If they catch you…” Cas looked down at the end of the street as someone walked by. He held his breath, but when nothing more happened, he turned back to Dean. “We can’t let anyone find out who you are.”

“Why not?”

“You didn’t know about Rathe before I told you, right?”

“No.” It took Dean only a few seconds before the realization hit. He had wrongly assumed that those who live in Rathe weren’t as ignorant of their position as those who lived on Earth. “Oh... I’m E.T.” He could feel his eyes widen slightly.

Cas nodded, not understanding Dean but apparently satisfied that Dean had understood him. “Come on, then,” he said and lead them out of the little alleyway.

  

It was only a few blocks before Cas and Dean found themselves in front of a small yet grand looking house, slim, but at least a couple stories high. The building was surrounded by a rather wild looking garden that contained dozens of colorful wildflowers. Dean saw, by the side of the house, a stack of firewood ready for the winter. It had fallen over and lay neatly scattered, fighting, for the first time, a winning battle against entropy. The pieces of wood stood face up on the ground in the same pattern they were stacked in.

They climbed up the front steps, and Cas knocked on the door. There was no answer. He knocked again, this time a little harder. Still no answer.

“I guess Billie was right,” said Cas.

“Yeah, but Chuck said there’d be a Charlie, and he’s still a prophet right?”

Cas stepped back and motioned toward the door, his lips pressed together. Dean looked around at the windows before sidling up to the front entrance. He flipped up the letterbox flap and pressed the side of his face to the door.

“Hey, uh, we were sent here by Chuck,” he called out. “We’re looking for Dorothy. Um, my name’s Dean, my friend here is Cas.” Dean waited for some reply but none came. “Er, the password is Crookshanks?” Almost instantly he heard a scuffle from behind the door and quickly retracted his head to a safer location. There was the sound of clinking metal as locks were released, and the the door cracked open to reveal a girl with long, red hair peering up at them.

“What’s up?” she asked, in, Dean thought, a surprisingly casual voice.

“We need some assistance in finding a place, and Chuck told us Dorothy could help.”

“Yeah, sure, come on in.” She stepped back and opened the door wider to let Cas and Dean through, before closing it quickly behind them. Dean noticed that her arm was wrapped in a sling. Stepping through the door only led them into a short hallway where yet another door stood at the end. Charlie did not yet appear to be ready to let them into the next part of the house.

To try to get to know her better, Dean asked, “So what’s up with the password and all?”

“I’m, kind of, not from around here,” said Charlie vaguely. “The locals are a little suspicious of foreigners.”

“Not from around here?” Dean pressed.

“She’s from Earth. Like you,” Cas interrupted before Charlie could answer.

“Um, yes.” Charlie appeared shocked, first that Cas had discovered her secret, then at Dean. “Wait, you’re from Earth too? When did you get here?”

“This morning, actually.”

“No way! I’ve been here for a year or so now. How are things back on Earth? Hey, has Martin finished Winds of Winter yet? I mean, if you’re into that sort of thing, well you kinda have to be now that you’re in a fantasy world of - Sorry, I’m rambling.”    

Dean chuckled. “No, he hasn’t. Even George Lucas beat him to a new release.”

“What?!” Charlie exclaimed. “A new Star Wars came out and I wasn’t there to see it?” She seemed genuinely bummed out. “You have to tell me everything that happens! But first, why are you guys here?”

“We’re looking for a lake. Chuck told us that Dorothy would know where it is,” said Cas.

“Yeah, totally. We have a bunch of maps and stuff. Um… Dorothy’s not here right now, but come in and we can take a look around.” She stepped back, finally inviting them to go through the next door.

“Great, thanks!” Dean said, smiling in a friendly and understanding way, aware of the risk she was taking. Charlie pulled out a small key and unlocked the door into the house, leading the boys through.

When they entered the main part of Charlie’s house, the first thing Dean noticed was the staircase in the dead center of the small building. It started from above the ceiling and cascaded to somewhere hidden below the floor, like crisp, curled paper. Its balusters flowed like white lace and were lined with dark walnut railings. Dean stared in awe and, though he was still uncertain of how to read his solemn friend, noticed that even Cas appeared impressed.

“So this is it, guys, welcome!” Charlie gave a sheepish grin and gestured around the room. She led the two of them down the staircase and into a warm basement that was filled with scrolls, maps, and most importantly, books. Books lay strewn across the floor in stacks, in cases, and in haphazard piles, carved out chunks of their authors’ hearts, small shards of the souls of English teachers, and many a source of emulation.

“If we don’t find what we need down here, there’s more upstairs,” Charlie quipped.

Cas repeated to Charlie most of what Chuck had told them, leaving out the part about what was actually in the lake, and she handed them both a stack of papers. Dean had taken a liking to the girl very quickly, and it seemed that even Cas had too.

“So, if you don’t mind me asking, how did you get here?” said Dean.

“Dorothy found this key which brought her to Earth. We sort of ran into each other,” she giggled, “literally, and we hit it off I guess. I showed her around Earth, and she wanted to bring me here so we used the key and have stayed ever since.”

“You’ve never gone back?” Dean questioned. “Don’t you have family there? People you miss?”

Charlie’s eyes wandered away from Dean’s gaze and over his shoulder. “No, I really didn’t have anything in Earth. Family’s all gone, and I was sort of underground.” She blinked and looked back at Dean. “And besides,” she said, “the key was a one time deal apparently, y’know, there and back again. It doesn’t work anymore.”

Dean nodded in a vaguely understanding way. Meanwhile, Cas had begun to take an interest.

“How does this key work?” he asked, setting aside the maps in his hands and leaning forward.

“You put it in a regular door, turn the lock, and when you open the door again the new world will be there.”

Dean, thinking about his trip over, looked over at Cas and grinned. “Man, that sounds easy.”

Charlie glanced over at Cas then back at Dean. “Why? How did you get here?”

Dean looked at Cas hesitantly.

“We… flew.” Cas supplied cautiously. He then changed the subject. “Is there any chance I could see this key?”

“Sure, I think it’s upstairs.” Charlie jogged up the stairs and was only gone a couple minutes before she had returned with an old looking box. She dusted off the lid and handed it to Cas. As he opened the box, Dean scrambled to look over his shoulder at what was inside. The key was wooden and ornately carved, but there seemed to be nothing obviously magical about it. Cas picked it up, weighing it in his hand before turning the key over. The front looked the same as the back.

“Interesting.” He placed it back in the box and handed the box back to Charlie.

“What’s interesting?” she asked.

Cas frowned. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”

“Yeah, well, Dorothy got it off some scruffy, middle-aged trader who thought it was junk. Boy, was he wrong!” she giggled to herself then stood back up. “I’ll go put this back then.”

As Charlie left, Dean, who was still standing behind Cas, bent a little closer to his ear and whispered, “Do you think that the demons could’ve gotten their hands on something like that?”

Cas tilted his head from side to side. “I suppose it’s possible,” he replied, “but I’d never even _heard_ of anything that could just open a door between the worlds, and I’m not sure, but I get the feeling that that key is one of a kind. It felt very powerful.”

“Like it could still work?”

Cas squinted in an indeterminable way. It seemed like he might’ve had more to say, but upon hearing Charlie’s footsteps return down the stairs he held his tongue. Dean stood back and watched Charlie jump down the last two steps. She looked up at him and he smiled.

“So are you and Dorothy-?” he trailed off, not sure what he was asking.

“Together?” Charlie supplied. “Yeah! We’re both kind of different, but I think we connect really well. And I haven’t had anyone be there for me in a long time, and she hasn’t really either so, as cheesy as it sounds, we’re sort of perfect for each other, y’know?”

“That must be nice,” said Dean, and he meant it. He glanced over at Cas.

Cas asked, somewhat obtusely, “Why aren’t you with her now?”

Charlie pointed dramatically at her cast. “I might’ve underestimated a situation,” she added. “And besides, it was nothing interesting, just a deal she was doing with some trader, so she said I should just stick around here so it can heal a bit more.”

Dean tried to rescue the conversation away from Cas. “Do you miss Earth?”

“Not really.” It didn’t seem as though Charlie had to think much before answering. “There was nothing really left for me there and here is like a whole new adventure. I mean, sure, Dorothy moonlights as a trader but we often end up going on funny little quests.” She smiled to herself, a gleam in her eyes. “There’s stuff I miss though like wi-fi and movies. Speaking of which, you promised you’d tell me about the new Star Wars.”

Dean laughed, “Alright.” He launched into a full retelling as they all continued to scan papers for the lake.

 

They had sat in the library room for hours pouring over maps, and no one had found anything. Dean sighed and slammed the book he had been flipping through shut.

“I need to take a break,” he said.

“Me too,” agreed Charlie. “My eyes are tired, and I’m hungry.”

The two of them pushed aside what they had in front of them and got up. Dean stretched his arms to the ceiling and Charlie headed off upstairs.

He looked down at the angel who was still sitting in front of a stack of maps and hadn’t moved. “C’mon, Cas,” Dean groaned.

“You know I don’t eat here,” mumbled Cas.

“Yeah, but come on anyways.” Without waiting for an answer, Dean pulled the scroll out of his hands and cast it aside. “I’m not gonna let you sit down here like a loner.” Cas sighed but stood up and they both followed Charlie’s path upstairs. When they walked into the kitchen she was pulling out dishes for the three of them.

“I’d cook you guys something, but I’d probably burn the whole house down,” she said apologetically.

Dean rose to the occasion. “Don’t worry, I got it. Just show me where everything is.”

Once they had a fire going, Charlie showed him where he could find a sack of potatoes and some rashers of bacon. The potatoes were small and he wasn’t entirely sure that the bacon had come from the average domestic pig, but he figured it’d do.

After only a short amount of time, Dean put down hot plates of food in front of himself and Charlie. If she wondered about Cas, who was staring out the window, she didn’t say anything about it. Instead, she took a bite of bacon, and with an impressed look turned to Dean.  

“Where’d you learn how to cook?”

He thought of Sam. “Let’s just say that mac ’n’ cheese gets really boring after eating it every dinner for a few years.” What would his little brother think of Rathe? Would he be afraid, or would he embrace this challenge as if he was born to it? Would he be homesick?

Cas interrupted his train of thought, “Thank you for your hospitality. I hope we’ll be out of your hair by tomorrow morning.”

Dean pictured all the stacks of paper lying around downstairs and remarked, “You say that, Cas, but we came here looking for something and after _hours_ we’ve still found fuck all.”

“We’ll keep looking,” said Charlie. “I can bring down the stuff from upstairs, and Dorothy should be home soon. I’m sure she’ll know more than I do.”  

They both finished their meals, and Charlie quietly picked up both her and Dean’s plates. The sound of the front door being unlocked echoed throughout their silence.

“Speak of the devil?” Dean muttered.

“That must be Dorothy,” said Charlie. “I’ll go tell her you guys are here.” She left the dishes and hurried to the front door.

Dean peaked around the wall and saw a handsome lady with neatly pinned brown hair walk into the house and give Charlie a quick kiss on the lips. Their voices were hushed but he could just make out what they were saying.

“Hey, how’d things go?” asked Charlie.

“Ugh, badly,” Dorothy groaned, taking off her jacket and hanging it up by the door. “The trader was a no-show until the last day, then the wares were not what’d been described to me. But that doesn’t matter anyway.” She reached out to brush the hand of Charlie’s that was in a sling. “How’s your arm?”

“Much better.” Charlie smiled, then her eyes flickered toward the kitchen. “But, um, there’s something else. We have visitors.”

Dorothy’s eyes widened. “In here right now?”

Charlie shrugged. “They knew the password.”

“Show me.”

Dean retracted his head just as Dorothy looked down the hall at him. He looked over at Cas, and they both stood up as the new arrival entered the room.

She stuck out her hand. “Dorothy Baum. Although I take it you two know that already.”

“Dean Winchester.” Her handshake was firm and steady.

“He’s from Earth too!” Charlie interrupted. Dorothy raised her eyebrows, and she gave Dean a thorough once over.

“Interesting,” was all she commented. She moved over to the angel.

“Castiel,” he said, looking down at her hand hesitantly before taking it. “Chuck told us you could help find a place.”

“Might be that I can, though I don’t think I know a ‘Chuck’,” Dorothy mused. Dean glanced over at Cas, but saw no sign of the confusion that Dean was feeling on his face. Dorothy continued, “But tell me something first. Are you two the traders that nearly caused half a riot in the market square this afternoon?”

“Not a riot!” Dean exclaimed indignantly. “I stumbled and fell into a cart is all.”

Dorothy smirked. “Well, whatever the truth may be, I’d advise you not to leave through the front gates. Billie’s about ready to eat you two for breakfast.”

Cas frowned. “That’ll lengthen our journey considerably.”

“Unfortunately, there’s really no choice. But anyways, while you’re here, what can I help you find?”

“We’re looking for a lake in a crater, surrounded by a field and a rocky ridge which is covered in a dense forest,” said Dean.

“That’s a little vague…” As Dorothy stared down at the table, her eyes slid out of focus, and her brows began to furrow. “But I think I may know what you’re talking about.” She spun on her heel and dashed out of the room. Dean could hear feet thunk in rhythm on the staircase, stop for a couple minutes, then return. When she walked back into the kitchen, Dorothy had a couple of large scrolls cradled in her arms. Dean, Cas, and Charlie scrambled to clear the table so she could set them down.

“Mmmm. Did you cook something?” Dorothy asked Charlie.

“No, Dean did.”

She looked curiously at Dean, who nodded.

“There’s definitely still some left over, if you want it,” he supplied.

“Actually, that sounds great.”

Dorothy walked off and Dean grabbed one of the maps. He spread it across the table, while Cas and Charlie put some cups on the corners to stop it from rolling back up again. The three of them gathered in front of the paper. It was a neat, but not very detailed picture of a perfectly circular lake. From what they could tell, everything that Chuck had described was there.

“I think this is it,” Dean said.

“I agree,” replied Cas, “but it doesn’t tell us anything about where it is.”

Dorothy set her plate down and sat in a chair opposite them. She pointed at the other scroll. “Check the other map. It should be smaller-scale.”

When they opened it up, the lake definitely appeared much smaller. But there still didn’t seem to be much context for its location.

“I’m still not sure where this is,” complained Cas.   

“Look at the coordinates.” Dorothy pushed her plate out of the way and leaned in. She brushed her finger over some of the writing on the side of the map. “Look,” she said, “it’s at the dead center of the fourth plane.”

“Plane?” Dean asked.

"Rathe isn't exactly spherical," Charlie said, somewhat apologetically.

"What now?"

Cas spoke up, "Did you see the money I used to pay for lunch?"

"Mh’hmm," Dean confirmed, remembering the funny red shapes.

"It looks more like that."

Dean nodded, as if he understood, then shook his head. "Hang on a minute, didn't you tell me that Heart is a concentric circle around this place?"

“It is.”

"Concentric... sphere." Dorothy corrected, fixing Cas with a piercing stare. “But most people believe it’s just a platform surrounding Rathe.”

"For fuck’s sake. Does physics even exist in this place?" Dean grumbled.

"Well, Dea-" Cas began, but Dean cut him off.

"NO, alright, alright. I changed my mind; I don't want to hear about it. Let’s just go back to how we get to this place."

“Easy,” said Cas. “Chuck said I could land within fifty feet of the tree line, then we just walk.”

“So like _Journey to the Center of the Earth_?” asked Dean playfully.

Charlie smirked. “Well, yes, except on more of a 2-D plane and on Rathe.”

“Huh!” Dean grinned. “Journey to the Middle of Rathe. I call copyright on that one.”

Dorothy interrupted them, looking hard at Cas, “Did you say land? You’re a Gatekeeper aren’t you?” As she observed him, he shifted uncomfortably. Her expression changed to one of near awe. “Then why don’t you just tell Billie this? I’m sure she’d give you both a complete pass. And I’ve dealt with her before; she’s trustworthy.”

“I’m sure she is but I can’t,” said Cas. “The path and the intent of this mission is only known by Dean, Chuck, and I. I’ve even been keeping quiet to my bosses about where we’re headed.”

“But now we know,” Dorothy pointed out.

The air in the room became tense, and Dean could feel Cas holding on to the suspension with bated breath. He let it drop. “I trust you.” Cas then flickered his eyes pointedly from Dean, “Besides,” to Charlie, “we have something in common,” then back to Dorothy, who knew exactly what he was implying.

“No worries. I was just stating the obvious,” said Dorothy passively. She moved on from that topic, her tone relaxed yet authoritative enough to keep everyone aware of her position as head of the house. “Anyway, you two are welcome to stay the night. I’m afraid we don’t have any free and uncluttered bedrooms, but there are a couple comfy chairs one room over. As for me, I’m going to call it an early night. If I don’t see you guys in the morning, then good luck on your travels.”

Dorothy cleaned her plate, put it away, and headed upstairs. Charlie hesitated a moment, then followed her up. Dean turned to Cas.

“So where are we going tomorrow? Now that we’re practically fugitives.”

“We’ll have to head Northeast and out of this town on the other side. Let me show you.” Cas left the kitchen and walked past the staircase, into the other room. As Dean followed him in, he saw the chairs that Dorothy had mentioned. He moved over to Cas who was standing by the window. Cas pointed.

“The quickest way out, other than the way we came, will be at the base of those mountains.”

Dean looked out to where Cas’ finger ended. The mountains in the distance looked mostly bare except for a few large patches of snow. Glaciers, Dean presumed. Perfectly formed clouds hovered over them, growing larger and darker every minute.

“That looks like a long way to me.” Dean frowned. “How far are we gonna have to walk?”

“It’s-” he tilted his head from side to side, and Dean realised that because of his wings, Cas would have no idea about walking distances, “-pretty far.”

“And there’s no other way? No one we can hitch a ride with or something?”

Cas hesitated, making a displeased face. “I think I know someone in this town that may have some horses we can borrow. He’s not too fond of me, but he owes me a favor. I’ll ask Dorothy where he is in the morning.”

“Alright, that sounds better at least,” Dean acquiesced. Horses certainly weren’t his favorite, but they’d beat walking all that way. “Hey, another thing, what was it that Dorothy said about Heart being a platform?”

“That’s what everyone on Rathe believes. They know Heart exists, but they think that it’s physically right above them. The people don’t know about the other dimensions,” Cas explained.

“But how does that make sense to them?” asked Dean. “I mean, how does the platform work, how does it stand up, how do you get there, who built it?”

“Everyone has different answers for that, and there are scores of religions explaining the phenomenon. Even us Gatekeepers have many questions, and we know more of the truth than anyone.”

“ _I_ still have many questions,” said Dean, starting up again. “In fact, here’s one that you’re probably sick of but I’m not: why me? I mean, why the fuck am I the one that’s gotta do this? I’m not special, and there’s a human right here in Rathe who loves adventure.”

“Then don’t,” snapped Cas, rounding on him. “When we get to the border, I’ll take you back home, and you can forget any of this ever happened. It was just an order given to someone to give to me. There’s no actual prophecy or law that says ‘Only Dean Winchester can save the worlds’. It’s your choice. But if you believe that you’re not special, well, now’s the time to change that. Do something good. Be the man I believe you to be.”

Dean was nearly stunned to silence. He had not expected such an emotional response from Cas, nor the answer he received. It burned him to his core that this was a choice. Were it all a prophecy, it would’ve been so easy to say no and be considered a hero for fucking destiny right in the face. But he didn’t have to do it, which meant that saying no would make him a coward. Dean wasn’t a coward, but he certainly couldn’t be a hero either.

“I’m not sure if that man exists,” he said quietly.

“Then I’ll call Charlie down,” Cas replied. “I’m sure I can convince her.” His voice grew duller. “But only if this is really what you want. Is it?”

He knew that somehow he was draining the faith from an angel; he could already see himself bleeding Cas dry. Cas felt strongly and independently for the first time in what Dean thought must’ve been forever, and the feeling was about him! How could he let Cas down by passing his task on to someone else?

And Charlie. Dean looked around the house and the life that she had made. There were ornate swords set above the mantle of a fireplace, more books, a story painted on a vase, and a poleaxe with chips in the cast iron blade and blood stains on the carvings in the shaft. He expected that Charlie would get into all sorts of trouble without him.

“You said this task may be dangerous, right?”

“I did.”

“Then no.” The decision, in the end, was easy. “I said I’d do it. I’m here. I’m gonna finish what I started.” If Dean didn’t continue his mission and something went wrong that he could’ve stopped, then Earth or Rathe might not exist anymore, and even if nothing happened, there wouldn’t be any more Cas.

“Good, then I’m taking those maps downstairs and make sure I know where we’re going tomorrow.” He released Dean from his gaze and left the room. As he walked past the staircase, he almost bumped into Charlie who was coming back down. She walked over to Dean.

“He looked kinda angry,” she commented, keeping her voice down. “Did you guys get in a fight or something?”

Dean answered a little too quickly, “No, it was nothing.” He stuffed his hands in his pockets. “Just a minor disagreement is all. But I think we sorted it out.”

“Uh-huh, Dorothy and I have those sometimes. Mostly it’s just because she wants to keep me safe, and I just want to go out there and _do_ stuff, y’know?”

“Yeah, I do.” Dean wandered over to one of the sofas and sat down. “So if you got told that you were chosen to complete a task, in another dimension no less, you’d be perfectly willing to do it?”

Charlie sat down next to him. “Well, no,” she said. “Obviously I’d have a few questions about what I was doing and why so that I could be sure that this task was the right thing to do.”

“But then, if you decided it was, you’d do it? Just like that?”

Without hesitation, Charlie replied, “Sure, if it needs to get done, and no one else is doing it. And, of course, there has to be at least a small chance of success and survival.”

Dean chuckled, “Yeah I’d say that’s pretty important.” He took a deep breath and looked over at Charlie. “Thanks,” he said. She smiled slightly and nodded.

They sat in a moment of contemplation before Charlie broke the silence.

“Hey, so how’s the election going?”

“Oh, fuck. Don’t get me started.”

Charlie started laughing, which, of course, got Dean started.

 

After Charlie had gone upstairs again, Dean moved over to the window, looking out at the great mountain range where he’d be going tomorrow. There was still some light outside, though dark clouds could be seen to be growing and blotting out the last of the sun. All at once, the indigo clouds that were covering the mountains turned from their perfect form and disintegrated into a flurry of what must’ve been torrential snow.

“Hey, Cas?” Dean called out. A moment passed in silence and Dean was just about to call again when Cas appeared from downstairs.

“Dean?”

“Do you see this?” Dean asked, as Cas walked over to stand behind him.

“It’s snowing up in the mountains,” he commented.

“Yeah, I could figure that out for myself, thanks. Isn’t there any other way we could go?”

“Unfortunately not,” said Cas. “But I wouldn’t worry about it; our exit isn’t that far up there so we shouldn’t get much of the weather.”

“And if we do? I’m no fucking Captain America, and if I freeze there ain’t no waking me up in seventy years.”

“If we don’t get out tomorrow, then we truly will have to worry about the weather,” Cas noted. “Don’t worry, I know a safe place where we can take shelter if necessary.”

Dean sighed. “I guess we’d better get some rest then.”

“I’m going to look through these maps some more. The amount of material they have downstairs is extensive.”

“Aren’t you going to get some sleep?”

“I don’t sleep.”

Dean raised his eyebrows. Sometimes he forget how inhuman his companion really was.

“You don’t eat or sleep here, but you do on Earth? I mean, shit, do you even breathe?”

“For all intents and purposes.”

Dean gave a sullen ‘huh’, and rubbed his brow with the heel of his hand. “I’m sorry,” he said, not sounding sorry at all, “but how does that work?”

“It’s complicated,” said Cas. “Our kind are still studying the effects of Earth and Rathe on certain individuals.”

A strange image of himself as Mulder on an operating table surrounded by little grey men with suspicious metal objects floated into Dean’s subconscious. It didn’t sound like anything he wanted to get caught up in.

“Well you can report back to them that I eat and sleep in both worlds.” He glanced over at the stairs leading up to the bedrooms. “And so does Charlie it seems.”

Cas mused, “I’ll do that. When this is all over.”

That phrase struck Dean as being improbable, if not unimaginable, but he decided to ignore it for now.  

“Goodnight then, RoboCop. Don’t wake me up too early, ok?”

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Cas did wake him up too early. But Dean was always a light sleeper, and sleeping in a strange place had only elevated this sense. It didn’t stop him from feeling groggy, however. He went into the kitchen to find both Cas and Charlie sitting by a small cooking fire.

“Morning, Dean,” Charlie said brightly when she realized he was there.

“Morning, Charlie, Cas.” He yawned. “Do you have any coffee?”

Charlie smiled apologetically. “No, that’s not really a thing out here. We have some tea though.”

“Huh, ‘the perks of being me’,” Dean muttered to himself, remembering what Chuck had said. He supposed that Chuck was a sort of Gatekeeper so he could just nip over to Earth and grab some coffee grounds. But then again, Cas had said that he couldn’t fly...

“What did you say?” Charlie interrupted his train of thought.

“Nothing. Tea would be great, thanks.”

Cas, as always, was intent on leaving sooner rather than later, and his insistence had them out the door only twenty minutes after Dean woke up. They didn’t see Dorothy again, but Dean asked Charlie to thank her for her help and hospitality. Manners were something ingrained in him thoroughly by Mary. He thanked Charlie too and gave her an impromptu hug, sharing the solace of being a stranger in a strange land, though Dean expected that she would get along just fine in Rathe.

It was only after they left that Dean remembered something important. “Hey, you never got to ask Dorothy where that barn was.”

“I found it on a map.”

The barn was fairly close to the path leading out of Boltar. It was decently sized, but seemed suspiciously quiet.

“Hello, anyone there?” Cas called out. There was silence and then-

“Aw hell, not you,” a man drawled as he emerged from one of the stalls. He was rough, burly looking man, with a blond beard and blue eyes.

“Benny,” said Cas.

“I have half a mind to throw you out right here and now. Or better, send for Billie. It was you making a fuss in the market yesterday, I take it?”

“But you won’t do any of that.” Cas spoke cautiously, his hands hovering in front of him. “You still owe me, remember.”

Benny raised his eyebrows. “Do I now?”

“I could’ve just left you surrounded in those barracks, in possession of an illegal weapon and no escape plan.”

“That doesn’t seem to be the way I remember it. See if I hadn’t-”

“Hadn’t what?” Cas cut him off tersely. “Got yourself caught in the first place?”

“Alright, Cas,” Dean interjected, feeling the tension building dangerously. He turned to Benny. “Look, man, we were just trying to cut time getting someplace, and Cas here said he knew someone who could lend us some horses.”

Benny gave him an uneasy once over. “Who’re you?” he asked gruffly.

“I’m Dean. Dean Winchester.” He put out his hand. The other man looked down at it for a moment before grasping hold in a brief handshake.

“Benny. Lafitte.” The corner of his mouth twitched as he let go of Dean’s hand. “Can’t say I’m too pleased to see this one,” he jerked his thumb towards Cas, “but I might be able to help you out.”

“That’d be great!” said Dean, eager to please this man so they could avoid any trouble.

“Where you headed?” Benny asked.

Dean glanced at Cas for confirmation, but decided to continue the conversation without the angel. “The northern border,” he said. Cas nodded ever so slightly.

“What’s your business up there?” Benny started to inquire, but at the dark look that came across Cas’ face he retracted the question. “Nevermind. I’m going to have to get you guys to drop my horses off at Canton. It’s still an hour’s walk from the border, but it’s the last village before you get there.”

“Alright. Where exactly are we dropping them off?

“There’s only one stable there. Ask for Jody.” Benny turned back to Cas. “I’m helping you out here, so we’re even now, Chief, got it?”

“Don’t call me that,” Cas barked. Dean laid a hand on Cas’ shoulder to stop him from ruining the careful peace they’d just made.

“If that’s everything then we’d better be on our way,” Dean said, trying to hurry things up. Benny got the message. He led them further into the barn and signalled two grooms, who seemed to appear out of nowhere, to ready the horses.

“These guys’ll get you sorted. Getting to Canton should only take the afternoon,” Benny rounded on the two of them, his face stern, “so if I hear that Jody didn’t get the horses until much later, or if anything happens to them, you’re gonna have hell to pay.”

“Hell isn’t a currency, you can’t pay in it,” snapped Cas.

“Oh, shut up.” Benny rolled his eyes. He then clapped Dean on the arm. “Nice to meet you, Dean. Keep an eye on that one, ok?”

Dean gave a half smile. “Will do. Thanks.”

Benny disappeared behind the barn. Dean, whose hand was still on Cas’ shoulder, pushed the angel gently so that they were both standing face to face.

Quietly, he asked, “What was that all about?”

“Nothing,” said Cas, angrily.

“Well cut it out,” Dean scolded. “I never thought you to be undiplomatic, but man.”

This time, Cas actually appeared somewhat contrite. “Sorry, I don’t know what came over me.”

“Doesn’t matter, it’s done now, and we got what we wanted. Let’s go help these guys out so we can get out of here quickly before anything else happens.” The corner of Dean’s mouth stretched into a impudent smile, and in his strongest southern drawl he said, “Put your drawers on, and take your gun off,” before squeezing Cas’ shoulder and walking into one of the stalls next to them.

They rode out twenty minutes later, each on middling size but sturdy looking horses. Cas sat awkwardly on a buckskin, a horse whose fur shone like the pale morning sun bringing in a new day, while Dean was seated more comfortably astride a dark, red dun gelding, whose coat was the color of a fiery sunset blazing into the night.

Dean had never been a huge fan of horses, however he had gone through a spaghetti western phase growing up. This was helped along by his mother who had, before shutting her family out, obligingly taken him and Sammy to the annual Wild West festival every year. Dean’s childish charisma and his eagerness had won him favor with the actors who, after the reenactments, would let him ride around a bit. In his head, Dean was an infamous bounty hunter, and Sam usually ended up being the criminal he was supposed to be hunting.

Later on, during his college years, Dean had met a couple horse ranchers from Colorado. He’d gone out to their ranch for a few summers, riding out on the range, the three of them seeing nothing but their horses, the cows, each other, and miles of grass for days. But that was before they moved down to Mexico. Dean had never seen them since.

As they left the town, the trail widened, and Dean rode up next to Cas. He didn’t know how much riding experience his companion had, but he could see that Cas was uncomfortable. Dean tried to give a few pointers, but he thought it was only their unweighted conversation that made Cas relax.

After a couple hours, they stopped in front of a vast, grassy valley. The two of them dismounted so that they could stretch their legs, and Dean grabbed a bite from his saddle bags. Cas lead his horse up by Dean’s, and they both stood staring at the snowy mountains in the distance and the clouds that were bubbling up behind them. Though the sun was out, even the sky had taken on a haze, and Dean could feel a surprisingly cool breeze tickle his face.

“So what now? Where’re we headed?”

“According to the map, the trail takes us halfway up this valley before turning behind that ridge,” Cas pointed, “and off to the east. Most of our journey has been flat so far, but that will be where the path gets a bit of an incline.”

“Good thing the horses are doing most of the work, right?” Dean chuckled.

“My legs would beg to differ,” groaned Cas.

“Hey, I know what would make you feel better,” said Dean. Cas gave him a skeptical look. “Race me!” Dean’s eyes flashed, coy and daring.

The corner of Cas’ mouth twitched. “Where to?” he asked.

Dean looked up the valley. It only took a moment before he spotted a large tree a fair distance away. “There,” he said. Cas nodded and they both mounted their horses.

After a shared glance, they were off. Dean dug his heels into his horse’s sides, the wind whipping past him, and the pounding of hooves on soft dirt echoing in his head. The distance between him and Cas began to increase as he leaned forward, low to his horse’s neck. Dean felt like he was flying.

The further he got up the valley, the more the flora began to change. What started off as grass, slowly became thistles, first as a few plants here and there, then as the rest of the valley. While a few of the thistles still had their purple flowers, most of them had gone to seed. The tufts of down had escaped the bond to their plant and were now drifting through the air. Dean slowed down to a trot reaching out his hand to grab a piece fluttering by, but it evaded him at the last moment.

Cas caught up to him. “Weren’t we supposed to go to that tree?” he asked.

“I got distracted,” said Dean. “Look.” The amount of down had increased, and puffs of it were sent flying with each of their horses’ strides. A breeze blew a chunk into Dean’s face, and it brushed against his cheek lighter than a feather. He laughed gently while turning to look at Cas whose lips were slightly parted in wonder. Dean smiled, feeling inexorably drawn to the angel, and edged his horse closer to Cas’. Their knees brushed against each other, and together they rode into the wind as the hundreds of bite-sized clouds continued to float around them.

After only another mile, they had reached the ridge, and the open valley had been exchanged for a coniferous forest. Pine needles covered the ground and a deep, heady scent reached Dean’s nose.

“How much further?” he asked Cas.

“I don’t know, but we’re more than halfway there. Once we’ve past the old lumber mill, the town is only a mile away.”

Dean nodded. His legs were too beginning to feel sore.

For an hour they saw nothing but the red-brown bark of the trees. He wondered if there were as many people in this world as there were trees on the mountains. He imagined what it would look like if each tree was replaced with a person, and the slopes in front of him began to turn an ombre of fleshy colors. He didn’t know why everyone was naked.

The path, as it had risen up the slopes, eventually sank down deeper into the forest, and up ahead a run down building could finally be seen. As they got closer, more equipment was noticed to be lying around, abandoned. The whole area was eerily quiet. When the horses walked past the lumber mill, even their steps seemed to be silenced. Everything down to the last air molecule felt as if it was hanging in suspension, even time too had appeared to have stopped. Though no one had worked here for a long time, the metal hadn’t rusted nor was the wood rotten.

Dean felt a cold breeze come from behind him and he shivered a little. He urged his horse up into a trot, Cas following beside him, and didn’t slow down until he could hear his own heartbeat once more. But remnants of the mill were scattered all the way to Canton.

In the distance, a faint glow emanated from the trees. When Dean and Cas reached the light, they saw that off to the left of the path a very small clearing emerged on the lower side of a slight cliff. It was filled with luscious, flaxen grass, and in the midst of the grass there was a single wooden chair. Surrounding this clearing were huge sheets of rusty metal, littering the ground, crumpled as though they were paper. It was a peaceful yet haunted scene.

Dean had had about enough of this forest, and he expressed as much to Cas.

“We’ll reach Canton in a few minutes, but we won’t be out of the forest until we come to the boundary,” was all Cas replied.

Cas was right about this part of their journey; it was over in only several minutes. The trees opened up, and down in a shallow crater, a handful of large buildings and a few houses sat.   

 

Canton was the kind of place that would be small enough to have its own town drunk. It took Dean and Cas all of five minutes to find the barn where they needed to drop the horses off. A matronly looking woman with brown hair and brown eyes walked out as they were dismounting.

“Are those Benny’s horses?” she called out.

“Yeah, are you Jody?” Dean answered.

“Sure am. What’s the deal?”

Cas replied quickly, “We left Benny’s this morning, got here before sundown, and the horses are all in one piece.”

Jody laughed, “Looks like someone got on his bad side. What happened?”

“We were… on an errand, and we got ourselves trapped,” said Cas, apparently reluctant to reveal too much.

“That’ll do it.” Without questioning any further, she turned to Dean. “I guess Benny must like you if he still lent you two of his horses.”

Dean felt a little heat rise to his cheeks. He brushed it off, “Oh, nah, I think he just owed Cas one.”

“Well, I’ll have the girls take these horses back tomorrow, and I’ll make sure Benny knows that you two kept your word.”

“Thank you!”

“Are you boys gonna stay here for the night?” she asked.

“No,” Cas cut in. He looked over at Dean. “We’d should keep going if we want to reach the border by nightfall.”

“Hmmm, yeah, you’d better leave now if you want to stay ahead of the weather,” said Jody. “You know the last inn you can stop at in case it does start snowing, right?”

Dean gave a blank look, but Cas replied, “Yes, we do.”

“Safe travels then. And stay dry,” Jody cautioned.

“We’ll try,” Dean chuckled. “Thanks.” He patted his horse’s neck, and the creature turned to snuffle his pockets. He reached out to rub the horse’s head, but a sudden memory of coming home from the Wild West Festival and having John tell him that ‘it’s not because they love you, it’s just because you feed them’ caused Dean to retract his hand. Instead, Dean handed the reins to Jody, and he and Cas set off down the path. His legs ached with every step, and he felt strangely as though he was too close to the ground.

The forest loomed around him, and Dean sighed, resigned at having to enter it again so soon. He hoped that they might at least make it out before the snow found them, but that hope disappeared in only twenty minutes.

Dean walked through the trees, the cold catching in his breath and sending clouds into the air. Shivering, he looked up and saw a few flakes drifting from high above. He swore quietly, and a small puff of water crystallized in the air in front of him. Flipping up the collar of his leather jacket and hugging himself with his arms, Dean sped up a little, as if he wasn’t already aware that they wouldn’t reach their destination before the blizzard came in full force.

He could hear the soft padding of Cas’ feet ahead of him, though as the path wound away he couldn’t quite see him. The sky’s deep blue was slowly turning to fog and mist, but the moonlight still shone through. It was bright against the shrouding darkness and blazed the quickly accumulating snow with a silver fire. As Dean looked closer at the snowflakes falling on his jacket, he noticed that the moonlight had also brought the snowflakes to life. They rose up, dancing, their glowing white bodies glimmering and shining. He looked in awe upon the flakes that would gracefully walk over to each other, hugging and singing. He bent down to get a closer look and held out his bare hand to collect some of the falling snow.

The snowflakes looked up at Dean, and he realized that they had faces. Their shimmering smiles were wide and their eyes sparkled as they danced upon his open palm. The snowflakes laughed and sang, and he couldn’t help but feel his heart rate increase as the delightful creatures flolicked around. He began to laugh too, a gentle chuckle, and one by one the snowflakes looked up at him, their smiles becoming frozen. Suddenly, they all toppled face-forward onto his hand and sank their teeth into his skin. The cold seeped through Dean’s blood, its chill like death as he let out a harsh yell and threw the snowflakes off his hand, crushing them with his boots the instant they touched the ground. He vigorously rubbed his hand on the side of his jeans, hoping to fully obliterate any last flake. After his hand was freed, he stepped back to reveal only some scattered, broken shards of snow.

Dean looked up to see Cas staring him stomping on the ground, cursing and looking altogether flustered with a spark of amusement in his eye. He had apparently noticed Dean’s absence and had retraced his steps to find him.

“Are we nearly there yet?” he whined, knowing exactly how much he sounded like Sam when he was little.

“Not too far, I hope.”

“You hope? Don’t give me that bullshit, Cas.”

All of a sudden, a large shadow crossed the sky and blotted out the moonlight as Cas unfurled his wings.

“Let me protect you,” he said, stepping closer to Dean. “It’s getting too dark to worry about anyone seeing me anyways.”

Dean nodded a little too quickly, desperate for any more warmth and shelter he could get. Cas then moved to stand closely beside him and allowed his left wing to flare out over Dean’s head, before folding to brush Dean’s side, pinning him tightly to the angel. In turn, a smile pulling at the side of his mouth, Dean grasped Cas’ hand and pulled it into one of his jacket pockets where the fleecy inner lining felt snug and comforting on both their skin. They moved off in that fashion, carrying on down the long, lonely path.

 

A thick cloud rolled down the mountain like an avalanche. It moved like the snow would, consuming everything in its path, and Dean could’ve sworn he’d heard it rushing through the trees, rustling every leaf and twig.

The solitude expanded as the world caved in on Cas and Dean. Mist encircled them, and the wind blew ice crystals at their faces, only to be deflected by Cas’ wings.The fog clung so desperately to every branch that Dean was surprised when it retreated with every step he took, instead of standing still to consume him as he journeyed ever further forward. A tendril of the cloud reached down and brushed against his arm. For a moment, Dean felt uncomfortably intimate with the sky, but the cloud was quickly deflected by Cas’ wing.

The snow too continued on. At first, it lay delicately on the pine trees, illuminating every individual needle, but as the storm wore on, the single snowflakes piled into dense, shapeless clumps, aging the trees as their weary branches bowed under the weight.

As the sun began to set, the darkness flooded the air around them, seeping through the spaces in between the trees, following closely behind the forsaken pair, and staying only but a few paces ahead of them. Though the snowy path held a modicum of brightness, it was a poor guide to replace the now absent moon. Still, they walked, until finally the path began to turn.    

“I believe we’re nearly there,” Cas spoke, breaking the the silence.

“Oh, thank God,” Dean gasped, the cold burning his throat. Suddenly, Cas stopped. Dean swore as he stepped out from under the warmth of Cas’ wing and was hit with a blast of cold snow.

“Son of a bitch! What?” he exclaimed, quickly stepping back to Cas’ side again.

“Dean, there’s something I should tell you before we reach this place.”

“Sure, fine, but can we keep walking? My toes are fucking freezing!” Cas began to stride ahead, his wing nudging Dean from behind until he moved as well. Dean cast a sideways glance at Cas and was surprised to see that his usually stoic face was softened by the reflection of the snow and now held a gentle yet sorrowful expression.

“Some of the people we are about to meet… You may recognize them,” Cas said slowly. “But they are not the same people, and I would advise you to pretend not to know who they are.”

“What do you mean I ‘may recognize them’?” Dean asked, wary.

“This is, as I’ve said before, a parallel world. Even some of the people are the same, and the important ones always appear in the right places.”

Dean could feel the ominosity creeping, and he imagined that if he were in a horror movie right now, the music would be reaching a crescendo.

“Who are we going to meet?”

“You’ll see.”

Neither spoke for a moment, while Dean processed this information.

“So,” Dean started again, “you’re saying there could be a second me, or another of my brother Sam, or my mom and dad?”

It took Cas a long minute before he finally replied.

“Not anymore,” he said slowly.

Dean’s heart skipped a beat. He wondered if he’d heard correctly or if the numbness of their ears and mouths had distorted the sound.

Dean was almost too afraid to ask, hoping that if he said nothing then nothing would be true. “What do you mean,” he croaked, “not anymore?”

Cas sighed and looked down.

“This was many years ago; you were maybe four. We were just learning about you, and we had no idea of your importance, so orders were given for only a few Gatekeepers to secure your family’s house. One night, our guard was down, and an Oathbreaker slipped by our watch.” Cas paused. “When we’d realized what had happened it was too late. The fire was unstoppable. There were no survivors.”

Dean could only gape at this revelation. He pictured himself as a kid again, happy and alive, but thought of fire soured this image. A second version of himself. What would that’ve been like - meeting another Dean? Would this Dean have had the same childhood, or lack thereof? Would Rathe have nurtured his imagination in the same way that Earth had suppressed it? He didn’t know; it was too much to think about.    

He released Cas’ hand, feeling a strange wave of anger at him for not doing more to save the other Dean. As the angel removed it from his pocket, the hand was replaced with a cold breath of air. It chilled any part of the skin that had been touched by Cas, and left Dean wishing that he hadn’t let go. Dean scrunched his hand up, trying to fill the empty space, but to no avail. He pressed himself tightly to Cas, but the cold was still winning.

Finally, house came into view. It was made of dull-colored wood boards and had one of those old saloon aesthetics. Wooden letters were nailed to the front that spelled out The Roadhouse. The porch creaked as Dean stepped onto it. He turned to see Cas, still standing out in the snow, open up his wings to their full length and shake them out, sending snow flying in every direction. Cas snapped his wings shut, and they vanished as he too stepped onto the porch.

Cas was the first to enter The Roadhouse. A blast of warm air hit Dean as he followed behind. His heart was pounding in the anticipation of finding out who these people would be. The room was empty, and all the chairs were stacked upon the tables. Everything was a little dark, but Dean could see a woman behind the bar look up at their entrance. He knew her voice the instant he heard it.

“Castiel?” asked Ellen. “It’s a blizzard out there; what are you doing?”

“We were walking to the border when we got caught in the snow.” Cas stepped aside slightly to reveal Dean to her. “This is my friend, Dean.”

Dean was practically quaking in his boots. “H-Hi,” he stuttered, raising his hand then quickly dropping it.

“Hey yourself,” replied Ellen, nodding at him. She turned back to Cas. “So what brings you two to these parts?”

“We’re just passing through - on a mission.”

“Right. Well, you’re welcome to stay here the night. I know you don’t sleep, Castiel, but maybe you do Dean?” He nodded. “Then there’s a spare bed upstairs.” She stared at him for a second. Dean gulped. “Are you ok? You must be frozen. Let me have Jo make you something hot.”

“Jo?” Dean said in a near whisper.

“My daughter,” answered Ellen, before walking out of the room and into the back of the building. Dean grabbed Cas’ shoulder, almost using the angel to steady himself.

“Cas-” he began.

“Dean, they’re not the same. Look at me.” Cas cupped his hand around Dean’s cheek, bringing their eyes to the same level. “They’re different people, in a different world. You don’t know them.”

The touch comforted Dean, and the closeness of Cas distracted him for a moment, but he still felt overwhelmed.

“I need to sit down.” They walked over to a table by a window. Cas took down the chairs, one of which Dean promptly collapsed into. He inhaled deeply and felt his heartbeat slow somewhat as he let the air rush out his mouth. A few more deep breaths were taken before Dean heard movement coming from the back room. He sat perfectly still, watching the door. She looked almost the same as she walked up to their table, tray in hand.

“Hey Castiel. Didn’t think we’d be seeing you again.”

“Nor I you, Jo. You look well.”

“Thanks! And you must be Dean,” she giggled, “Mom was right, you do look frozen.” She laid a steaming bowl of soup in front of him and sat down in the chair next to him.

“Eat up! I didn’t make that for nothing you know.” Dean had still been staring at Jo. He caught himself and turned away, apologizing. The soup almost burned the back of his mouth, but it was exactly what he needed after his walk in the snow. He took a few more spoonfuls, and the heat began to loosen his tongue.

“So you and your mom own this place?”

“Yeah, we do. I’ve lived and worked here for as long as I can remember. The Roadhouse belonged to my dad when my mom first met him, but it’s just us two now,” Jo explained.

“Can I ask?” said Dean cautiously. “What happened?”

Jo pressed her lips together and looked down at the table before looking back up at Dean. “He died. I was pretty young.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s ok.” Jo appeared sad for a moment, as an act of remembrance, then smiled, coming back. “My mom and I get along really well, most of the time, and when we don’t, well, there’s all sorts of interesting folk who stop by along the way.” Jo leaned in towards Dean a little, and, even though the bar was empty but for them, lowered her voice. “In fact, I heard recently some story about a giant, winged beast on the seventh plane.”

Dean stuttered out an “O-Oh.” He sneaked a glance at Cas who didn’t appear to be paying attention to either of them. “That sounds dangerous.”

Jo sat back into her chair, a glint in her eye. “Yeah, for sure,” she said, and there was something about her tone that struck Dean as strangely longing. He was about to ask, but at that moment Ellen returned, calling out Jo’s name.

“Jo?”

“Yeah, mom, right here,” she answered.

“Joanna Beth, what are you doing?” her tone was a little accusatory.

Jo protested, “I was just talking.”

“And leaving all the work for me to do? C’mon, I need your help cleaning up.” Ellen disappeared back into the kitchen without waiting for an answer.

Jo sighed and got up, taking the tray with her. “It was nice to meet you, Dean. And good to see you again, Cas.” They both agreed and thanked her, and Dean returned to the bowl of soup in front of him.    

When he’d finished, Dean looked over at the angel who was facing the window. He frowned as he noticed Cas’s eyes flitting from the wall to the glass panes, his gaze lingering on the blizzard outside for a few seconds before darting to the table again, back and forth, back and forth, back and forth.   

“Cas,” Dean ventured, “you okay?” Cas’s eyes stopped, hovering over the winter wonderland beyond the window.

“Have you ever noticed that when you first look at the snow falling it appears to levitate for a split second, as if you’ve just caught it in a freeze-frame.” His eyes resumed their movement as he answered Dean. “It makes me wonder if every time I look away the time outside ceases to pass.”

Dean huffed, not sure what to make of his companion. He thought back to their conversation on the way to Boltar. “So is this what it means to be human?” he asked.

“I… don’t know. Perhaps. It’s true, I see the world now as I’ve never seen it before. I see the people as more than just pawns or ants. I see their kindness and their courage. I see the beauty of this world. I see it in the trees and the grass and the snow, and I see it in your eyes - in the field where we first officially met.” Cas fixed Dean in his gaze, his voice now too containing the same tone that Jo’s had when she was talking about the winged beast.

“But you said yourself, that place isn’t real,” Dean clarified, nervously avoiding the remark that Cas had just made and ignoring the beat that his heart had just skipped.

“No, it’s not.” Cas’s eyes released their mark and wandered down to the empty bowl in front of Dean. “At least, that was what we learned growing up. But, in the beginning of our training, whenever the new Gatekeepers were first testing out flying through the boundary we always lost someone to the void.” His voice grew quiet. “In my time, it was a girl named Anna.”

“I don’t understand,” Dean said. “How can you just lose someone? What happened to her?”

Cas’ eyes slid out of focus. He sounded so soft that Dean could barely hear him. “When it was her turn to fly, she vanished and never reappeared where she was expected.”

“Couldn’t she just’ve gotten lost or turned up in the wrong place?”

“No. Our teachers tracked us so we couldn’t fly anywhere we weren’t supposed to.”

Dean felt an ache in his chest. He thought he was finally understanding. “Did you like her?” he asked, barely disguising his bitterness.

“We were acquainted. I promised to keep her safe.” Cas sighed, oblivious. “I guess now that I think about it, yes. I did like her; we were good friends.”

He didn’t know where this sudden anger was coming from, but Dean couldn’t seem to stop himself. “So that’s it. That’s your human side. Still the Terminator just with some added feelings. I thought you’d be actually physically more like me.”

“I-”

“Don’t say it,” he snapped, then lowered his voice. “Don’t say you are - you’re not. You’re almost less human. I mean, on Earth you at least ate and slept, but here? Not at all. Not to mention, you can still fly, and I’m sure you can still kill with a snap of your fingers.”

“I wasn’t going to say that,” said Cas, now affronted and confused. His wide eyes glistened hurtfully. “But you’re wrong about the last part,” he argued. “I’m sure I could hurt someone, if it was in an act of defense, but I don’t think I could kill now, not even an Oathbreaker. I just don’t think I could bring myself to commit an act like that.”

“And you think that makes you human?” Dean snarled, but kept his voice low. “Cas, my kind have slaughtered millions of each other. You aren’t human and you never will be.” He roughly shoved his chair back and stood up. “I’m going to bed.” He strode off to the back room to find Ellen and get settled for the night.

Once Dean found himself alone in a room that was his for the night, he crashed. The bed was a little creaky, but he lay very still and stared up at the ceiling. Dean sighed. He hadn’t expected to get so mad at Cas, and he wished he hadn’t lashed out like that. The angel didn’t really deserve it, he thought. It was just that for someone so extraordinary to feel as though they were, or even wished to be a simple, normal human felt like a slap in the face to Dean.

But he hadn’t meant to get angry, as if something else had taken over inside him. He couldn’t bear the thought that he had hurt Cas over something as simple as this. Dean frowned and shut his eyes. The springs creaked and groaned as he twisted, finding only increasingly more uncomfortable positions. He would apologize in the morning.

  

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Dean woke up with the unplaceable and immovable feeling of being cold. It was one of those feelings that he knew he wouldn’t be able to shake for the rest of the day, especially not with the upcoming trek through the snow.

When he walked downstairs, he saw Cas sitting in the same spot that he’d left him in. Cas was still staring out the window and didn’t look up as Dean walked over to him.

“Mornin’,” said Dean.

“Morning,” replied Cas quietly.

“Are Jo and Ellen up?”

“No. But we’d best get moving; let’s not wait for them.”

“Alright,” Dean understood the need to leave early, though he was a little disappointed. “But what about breakfast?”

“I sorted that out with Ellen last night. She said she’d leave you something,” Cas said tersely. It was apparent that he was still upset with him.

Dean went back into the kitchen and quickly found a plate of sandwiches laid out. He grabbed them and left. When he got back into the front room, he saw Cas, who had finally risen, dropping a few of those funny shaped coins behind the counter. Without a word, Cas walked away, but before he could leave the Roadhouse, Dean stopped him.

“Cas, wait.”

Cas paused, his hand hovering by the door.

“I’m sorry about what I said last night.” Dean took a deep breath as Cas looked, a little forlornly, over at him. “I didn’t mean it. Not really.”

Cas nodded. “Thank you,” he said.

As he opened the door, a brisk gust of air hit Dean. He took one last look around the room before following Cas outside. Everything was much clearer, but with the trees shrouding the view, Dean could only see a portraiture that showed nothing but the path in the foreground and the tall mountains ahead.  

Though only a few inches of fresh powder lay gently on their surroundings, the snow had magnified these distant mountains tenfold. Thin wisps of cloud hung suspended between each ridge. Dean shivered just looking at them.

“Don’t worry,” Cas promised, “Where we’re going now will be much warmer.”

Dean chuckled without any actual humor. “Yeah, we just have to get out of here first.” He flipped the collar of his jacket up and wrapped his arms around himself. As he walked up to Cas, Dean heard a rush of feathers. Cas’ wing curled around him as it had last night.

Dean frowned. “I thought you couldn’t do that, in case someone sees,” he asked.

“Then we’d better not let anyone see,” Cas replied. He grabbed a hold of Dean’s hand, rubbing his thumb over Dean’s knuckles, and pulled him down the path.

It took only a half hour to walk to where Cas said that the wards no longer held him down. The location seemed fairly unremarkable to Dean, but he didn’t have wings so what did he know. To Cas, it was a place of freedom where the air didn’t feel heavy and thick. To Dean it was just another step in land he didn’t know.

Because their hands were still joined, and his wings were out, Cas did nothing but stop and give a meaningful look at Dean. Dean nodded, and the snow vanished.

 

Their back-to-back departure from and return to Rathe had Dean and Cas finding themselves standing outside a tall, dense woodland that was blanketed over a few large hills. The warmth was such a relieving feeling to Dean that when the sunlight hit his face he almost gave a cry. But he had no time to relish it because almost as soon as they’d touched down, Cas had released him and taken off at a quick pace. Dean hesitated, letting his bones unfreeze a moment longer, then followed Cas towards the new forest in front of them.

As he came closer to the trees, Dean began to notice something not quite right. Though the trees stood as straight and as tall as sentries, their bark revealed their twisted nature, and they looked as though a giant had pinched the tips of each tree and twirled them in his fingers.

“If Chuck is right, the lake should be just over that ridge there.” Cas pointed directly ahead of them.

“Let’s get this done then, shall we?”

Dean walked into the forest behind Cas, who, as Dean fondly noticed, was carefully placing every step so as to not disturb the peaceful quiet of the underbrush. The land that the forest lay upon was gently sloping uphill. It was silent; not a bird sang nor a creature moved. Barely a breeze washed through the leaves, sending a rustle which caused Dean to whip around and look back at the way he’d entered the forest. But the entrance could no longer be seen. Only trees stood behind him, stretching for miles in every direction. He drew a sharp breath as he turned to resume his journey forward and quickened his stride for a few paces to catch up with Cas.

As they walked further into the forest, the leaves appeared to become denser, their dark emerald veiling what little sunlight could enter through the branches. The light became so diluted that when it finally hit the ground it too had turned to a pale, luminescent green. Thick moss coated the trunks of the trees like velvet and the fallen leaves crunched quietly with every footfall. Dean could hear a faint wind blowing and felt its breath upon his cheek, but no twig nor leaf even flickered. The forest was so still, it was as though their presence was cutting through the air. Yet they continued on, silence following them with every step.

After sometime, they had reached the top of the mountain. They climbed over the crest of rocks that had seemingly risen straight out of the ground, and once they’d reached the peak, were able to see for miles around them. On the other side of the hill, directly below where Cas and Dean were standing, something gleamed in the distance. As they looked closer they saw that a piece of sky had fallen directly into the earth below. It had retained its turquoise color as if to spite whatever had cast it down. The sun waged war on this shard of sky, sending rays crashing down upon the rippled surface, but the piece of sky just laughed and with a simple wave, turned the rays into a thousand glittering, sparkling diamonds. Cas and Dean gazed in wonder at this mirage for what might’ve been forever.

Finally, when its spell had become overwhelming, their gazes met, and without any verbal agreement or acknowledgement that they’d found the place they were looking for, the two of them jumped down from the rocks to run to the sky and dive into its infinite surface. The blue was calling to them; Dean could swear that it was repeating his name over and over. Being unbeknownst to the consequences he would face if he didn’t come to the sky’s calling, Dean felt shivers of fear up his spine. He sprinted and leaped, not caring where his feet were falling. The roots and the rocks kept reaching up to grab his feet, but he was flying so fast down the mountain that he was gone before they could even uncurl their fingers. But Dean had angered gravity who attacked the pair mercilessly. His weightlessness was not to be any longer as the invisible force tackled his lean body, sending him tumbling to the ground, head over heels, and he landed, with a thump and a mouth full of leaves at the base of a tree. Cas, by the grace of his wings, had defeated gravity with ease, and had come to land lightly in front of Dean. He knelt down, worry in his eyes as Dean rubbed the back of his head, looking a little dazed.

“Are you alright?”

“Yeah, just… tripped.” He scrambled to his feet, and saw a small smile pull at Cas’ mouth. Still a little dazed, Dean couldn’t help but stare at his lips, wondering what it would be like to - no, stop that! A soft blush spread across Dean’s cheeks as he tore his eyes away.

Somehow, the fall had returned them both to their senses, at least in terms of the lake, and they continued downward at a much more controlled pace.

As the hill leveled out, the trees became sparser until they had completely evaporated into a meadow of small sunflowers. A great expanse of water stretched out over the bottom of the valley, yet Dean wasn’t entirely convinced that this was the same lake he’d seen from the top the rocks. The gentle waves that had peaked all across the water were frozen, as though they were stuck in time. They walked up to the lake, the golden petals of the sunflowers swarming around their legs.

“You’d think that with all these flowers there would be more bees,” Cas commented.

Dean’s eyes crinkled. “Yeah, sure, Cas. That’s what’s weird here. No bees.” He turned his attention back to the lake. “Chuck said that the weapon would be in here somewhere, though I don’t see where.” He strained his eyes to see across the lake, halfway expecting to see a sign saying ‘Here lyeth the weapon’. “Or how,” Dean muttered as he knelt by the water and placed his hand on one of the waves. It was smooth, slippery, and… squishy, as Dean discovered. He grunted humorously, a memory coming to mind.

“This kinda feels like when me and Sammy dumped a whole carton of Jell-o into my parent’s toilet one April Fool’s Day.” He laughed gently to himself, recalling the mess they’d made, the torn expressions of annoyance and amusement on John and Mary’s faces. “Yellow Jell-o,” he added.

Cas knelt at the edge of the lake beside him and wrapped his hand around the wave, trying to tear it off. It wouldn’t break, the tough skin held even when he dug his fingernails in. Dean pulled at the tip of a wave, displacing it a few inches, then let go and watched as the wave returned to its original position with a soft ping and a lot of wobbling. Dean shook his head and looked over at Cas.

“This is a damn strange world you’ve got here.”

“So I’m discovering,” Cas replied.

Dean stood up and, as he surveyed the water in front of him, a gleam caught his eye. In the center of the lake, it seemed there was a glowing object.

“Hey,” he whispered to Cas, who was also standing up. Dean wrapped one hand around the back of Cas’ arm, and with his other pointed to the light in the lake. “I think that’s it.”

Cas nodded in agreement and said, “Taking what Chuck said into account, if he’s correct, I won’t be able to retrieve the object.”

“I guess that makes me first batter up then. I’m gonna go check it out; just wait here.”

“Be careful, Dean,” Cas entreated.

Dean placed his foot on the lake, in between two of the waves. The surface wobbled a little, but held. He put his other foot in front of him and began to stumble across the waves to the shining light.

After a minute, Dean reached the spot where the light was brightest and he knelt down, brushing his hands along the surface of the lake. The gel substance began to melt beneath his fingers, and he pushed his hand down into the water like it was a sponge.

Suddenly, the waves around him began to liquify, and before he could scramble away they had pulled him under, the newly watery depths swallowing him whole. Dean, though surprised and tense, kept his head as he swam down towards the object. Under the surface was a clear blue, and the sun shone brightly all the way down to the pale, sandy bottom. To Dean, it did not seem too deep as he pushed on further down.

The object became more defined with every second and the light that surrounded it began to pulse. It was a short scepter, no more than a foot long. A fist sized quartz point of a pale, sulfurous color was attached to the end of the rod. The rod itself was black with ornate and geometric inscriptions detailing their way down the handle in a rich maroon. A strong glow emanated from the quartz.

Dean reached his hand down to grab the scepter, and when it was in his grasp he pulled it up to him, sending a cloud of fine sand spinning around him. He turned and pushed off of the ground, but no sooner had he done so the lake reoriented. Sand clouded his vision, stealing from him the sight of the bottom of the lake. The rays of light that had been vertical when Dean had entered the lake now swarmed around him like a kaleidoscope. He found himself desperately trying to push through the slowly suffocating blue, not having the faintest clue as to which way was up.

As he swam around, trying to right himself once more, the flakes of glass raised from him pushing off the lake bed began to swirl and rise, turning the water into a sandy blizzard. He looked around despairingly to find that once more he could no longer see which was was up or down. He unwittingly tried to let out a strangled scream as the glass formed the shapes of people, but only a stream of bubbles spewed from his mouth. The sand people too were struggling to save themselves from drowning.

As Dean looked closer he thought he recognized his mother, his father, Sam, and Jess. He frantically swam over to the Sam apparition, trying to reach its ghostly hand, but it turned and smacked him, the shards of glass raking into his skin. He gasped in pain and propelled himself backwards feeling the water begin to push against his lungs. Dean knew he only had a little time left. Some of the figures had risen higher than him, pulling themselves to the surface and breaking through to the air, but Dean was still stuck below the waves, sinking as his strength failed him. He closed his eyes.


	4. Chapter 4

Cas had watched in vain when Dean had suddenly dropped into the lake. He worried that the surface would reform, and Dean would be trapped. But he did not have to worry long, for in an instant, the lake returned to its proper liquid state. It took Cas all of a millisecond to make the decision before he had waded into the lake and dove down into the calm blue. He searched, trying to find where Dean fell through, and though the lake was clear, he saw a swirling haze ahead of him. He couldn’t see Dean, but Cas knew that time was running out. 

When he saw Dean’s limp body his heart began to pound. Sparkling shards of glass surrounded the man, and some had even taken on a corporeal form. However Cas’ attention was not on them as he burst through the haze and grabbed ahold of Dean. 

But the moment he had swam into their midst, these sand creatures attacked Cas. He clung onto Dean as they swirled around him, scraping at his face and tearing his clothes. Blood stained the water, and Cas too found himself sinking down. He had to get out. He had to get Dean out. There was only one thing he could do.

As Cas unfurled his wings, he felt as though someone had attached small mountains to either side of his back, and he sunk another three feet. Yet when he heaved them downwards, he and Dean were instantly propelled up. The sand cleared before him, first dancing away in fear, then being thrust away by the billows of water that Cas’ wings sent their way. It took all the strength Cas had to finally break through the surface and even more to fly back to the shore. Water rushed off his wings like an avalanche, preventing him from doing any more than skim over the surface. He held Dean tightly to him, the man’s toes still dipping in and out of the lake. 

Cas reached dry land, and he laid Dean down on his back, noting the bulge of the man’s pocket where he’d hidden the weapon. His wings were flared out on either side of him, unable to be hidden due to the massive amounts of water that were pouring from either side. Cas crouched over Dean, his knees on either side of Dean’s ribcage and his hands on either side of Dean’s face. His fingers splayed from temple to jaw and his thumbs met between Dean’s nose and mouth as Cas shut his eyes and began to murmur. In his own native language, he willed Dean’s heart to continue beating and for his lungs to continue breathing.   

In less than a minute, Dean had returned, brushing Cas’ hands away from his face as he twisted onto his side, coughing up mouthfuls of water. Cas let out a sigh. 

“Well look what we have here,” a voice off to the side of them suddenly called out. Cas scrambled to his feet and immediately stepped a few paces in front of Dean. 

“Your little human there seems to have something I want,” the Oathbreaker announced, sounding like a cloud of ash crashing down the side of a volcano. Cas couldn’t help but shudder. Though his wings still drooped, trailing on the ground behind him, the snarling face and the long, deadly knife that had dropped from his sleeve gave Cas’ usually calm face a fearsome and vengeful look. 

“You’ll never get past me,” he growled. But the Oathbreaker just laughed. Cas frowned, and the confusion slowly soured in his gut as seven more Oathbreakers stepped out from the trees and walked down towards lake, surrounding Dean and Cas from all sides. 

“Cas,” a rough voice whispered from somewhere below his knees. He felt a slight tug on his pants as he looked down to see that Dean had crawled up next to him and was now staring, shocked, at the scene ahead of him.        

“Stay back, Dean,” Cas urged. “If you get a chance, run, and I’ll try to keep them occupied for you. Don’t let them get the weapon, no matter what.”

Cas heard Dean call out his name but it was too late; Cas had already strode out to meet the first demon, the one who had spoken to them. The blade he held in his hand glinted in the sun. Another demon rushed at him from the right, teeth bared. Cas tried to stab at him, to incapacitate not to kill, but the demon deflected anyways, grabbing onto Cas’ knife arm and turning the point away from its stomach. Cas used the demon’s distraction and his own free hand to strike the demon in the neck. The grip on his hand was released slightly and with all the force he could muster, Cas kicked the demon in the gut, causing it to let go of him as it stumbled backward and fell into the lake.

Cas sensed a second demon coming at him from his other side. He tried to turn to block the blow that the demon threw at him, but the weight of his wings slowed him down. While Cas managed to raise his arm in time, the demon fell hard into his ribcage. Cas grunted, and while the demon reeled from the impact, he knocked it out with a well placed punch. The demon slumped to the ground, unconscious. He knew that he could’ve killed it instead, but the taste of bile rose to his mouth just from seeing the body fall.  

Now Cas resumed his path towards his original target. A third demon ran at Cas from the left. With all the force he could muster, Cas gathered up his wing and before the demon could reach him, he batted it out across the field. It flew at least 50 feet before landing with a hard thud amidst the flowers.

However, as Cas had been occupied with this, a fourth demon along with the one he’d pushed into the lake had snuck up on him and had gotten a hold of his other wing. They pulled him to his knees and as he dropped, his blade also fell from his hand, rolling behind him out of sight. He heard a metallic clunk as the knife was kicked away by the demon that he’d knocked out, now conscious again. Cas was pinned and surrounded on all sides. 

The black-eyed human who had spoke did so once again. “Looks like we got past you,” it said snarkily.

“Oathbreaker,” hissed Cas. It dealt him a vicious backhand that left his head ringing. Cas slumped against the Oathbreaker that was holding him, too dizzy to stand straight. All he could feel was the pain in his head and in the wing that had been used to wrestle him down. Desperately, Cas hoped that while the demons were dealing with him, Dean was able to make an escape.

“I’m going to tear you limb from limb-” the Oathbreaker began, but all of a sudden a shining silver light was coming from a gaping hole in its throat. The demon collapsed to reveal Dean standing behind him, Cas’ blade, bloody, in his hand. The man’s face had twisted into an unrecognizable form of anger, and his whole body was filled with a ferocity that Cas had never seen in him before.

As the Oathbreakers ran to attack Dean, his eyes blazed and he growled, “Come and get me you sons of bitches.” 

Cas was released, forgotten, and he slumped sideways, falling to the ground.

Dean whirled around the demons at a lightening fast speed. Cas could see him dancing and dodging his enemies, playing with them like a cat. Though the demons fought back, Dean was easily picking them off one by one.       

Cas scrambled to his feet as Dean tore through the last Oathbreaker. He stood warily before calling out to the man.

“Dean.” Dean turned slowly on his heel, and his face sent a shiver down Cas’ spine. The ferocity and rage was that of an animal, not a human. Dean looked upon Cas with nothing but hatred as he began walking toward him with malicious purpose in every stride.

“Dean,” called Cas again, standing firm as he advanced. Dean raised the knife, prepared to strike, but at the last moment, Cas reached out and caught onto Dean’s arms. Knowing he had only one option to save them both, Cas grappled Dean, pulling the man in close while trying to keep the knife away. Once he had the best hold he could get, Cas heaved his wings up and brought them down. They had to leave Rathe.

Again he yelled, “Dean,” though he was right next to him.

Dean only answered with a growl, and Cas beat his wings harder. It took a third attempt before Cas felt a jerk and the two of them had left Rathe. But things were still wrong. Cas felt like he had an anchor was dragging behind him, and Dean’s struggling wasn’t helping at all. 

Once again, the silver blade sparkled in Cas’ eye as Dean ripped his hand free of Cas and raised the weapon. Even though he knew he wouldn’t make it all the way through to Earth, at least, not alive, Cas had no choice but to land. He had to get Dean back. The hard ground generated beneath their feet, and the knife hovered.


	5. Chapter 5

“This isn’t you, Dean.” A breeze felt cool on Dean’s face. “Dean, please, it’s me, Cas.” The solid ground he stood upon was almost as much of a surprise as the desperate blue eyes that were staring up at him, wide with horror. His hand fell limp to his side; the blade rolled off his fingers and landed with a dull thud on the earth below. Dean’s gaze dropped to the ground, and he turned away in disgust. 

“What happened?” Dean asked, shakily. He knew what he’d done but every bone in his body was wishing that Cas would tell him that it was all a bad dream.

“When I pulled you out of the lake, we were ambushed. I tried to fight them without killing any, but my compassion got in the way and they were able to pin me down by using my wings against me. Then you came. You killed the rest of the Oathbreakers, and-” Cas stopped. 

“And?” Dean’s voice was barely a whisper, his back still faced Cas.

“And then you turned on me.” 

Dean let out a rush of breath. How could he have done such a thing? How would he ever face the angel again? He brought his hand up to his face, covering his mouth, and trying to trap the emotions that threatened to burst through him.

When Dean could finally look at Cas again, the first thing he saw was that Cas’ wings had been replaced by shadows, cast backwards on the tree trunks he stood in front of. He noticed that they seemed almost to be shedding away in great clumps, without ever losing any mass. 

“Cas,” Dean muttered, still not quite able to meet his eyes, “your wings. Did the demons do that?”

Cas still stood aloof and tense. “Just water. They were soaked when I pulled you out of that lake, and they’re not much good when they’re like this.”

“Well, they got us out of that place didn’t they? Though I don’t recognize where we are.”

“We’re in Heart,” Cas said. Dean’s head jerked up, and when he looked at Cas’s face he saw a deep-seated fear hidden behind the weary calmness.

“But we have to get out of here?” said Dean, unsure if he was asking or demanding.

“I can’t. My wings are too heavy; if I tried to fly… I wouldn’t make it out. I can get you out of here though.”

“Just me? How?”

“We’re at a sort of mid-way point, between dimensions. You’re human. You belong here even less than I do, every molecule of being in Heart feels it, and I can use this power to push you through to Earth.” 

Dean did not know what to say. 

“But it’s dangerous,” Cas continued. “You’d have to be strong, Dean. Think of your home. Picture it in your mind. I wouldn’t be there to guide you so you’d have to stay on track.”

“What happens if I don’t?” 

Cas sighed. “When I first took you from your car you glimpsed what would happen. The space in between the worlds can take you many places until it becomes twisted and warped. It’ll trap you there, eventually. But I believe you could do it, Dean, and it’s far safer than staying here.” Cas took a step forward, his arm outstretched. “Let me --”

“No.” Dean took a synchronized step backward, blocking Cas with his elbow. “I won’t leave here without you.”

“Dean - ”

“No,” he repeated firmly. “How long do we have before you’re good to go again?”

“I don’t know, it could be a while, but we can’t stay here. The monsters could be closing in even as we speak.” 

“Fine, then we’ll just keep moving,” said Dean defiantly. “I don’t suppose you can put those wings away, I mean, they do kinda draw a big flashy sign towards you saying ‘I’m a Gatekeeper.’”   

Cas shook his head. “Heart exposes me. I have no way of hiding who I am. But look around, I don’t think they’ll be quite as obvious as you think.”

Dean frowned as he realised that while he stood directly ahead of Cas, he saw a definite form to the wings, however, when he tilted his head to any side, the illusion was shattered, and the wings looked only like odd dark patches on the tree’s bark. “Alright then. Let’s get moving.”

 

It didn’t matter where they went, so they walked in the places that seemed safest. But safe was a relative term. Neither of them really knew what it meant anymore. For Dean, it was the fear of being a danger to himself, and the knowledge that his transformation in Rathe had made him not a hero as he had wished for, but a villain. For Cas, however, it was the insecurity of what had been found beneath that lake.

“Dean, do you have the weapon?”

“Yeah.” Dean pulled it out of an inner jacket pocket and handed it to Cas. “Here.”

Cas examined the weapon up and down. His face pulled into a concerned frown. 

“I don’t think this is what we’ve been told it is,” he said cautiously.

“You mean it’s the wrong thing?” Dean’s eyes widened. “We didn’t get what they wanted us to get?”

“No.” Cas ran his fingers down the length of the handle, brushing the etchings with his finger tips. “I think it is what my bosses wanted, but I don’t think it does what they told me it would do.”

Dean stared in horror at the object in Cas’ hand. He looked back up at the angel, heart pumping. “Then what is it?”

“I think it’s a… a key.” A muscle in Cas’ jaw pulsed as he met Dean’s gaze, and his voice was hushed when he spoke again. “A key that will open up Heart into Earth and set all its evil upon your kind.”

Dean went very quiet. 

Cas backtracked, “Maybe I’m wrong. Or maybe this is a misunderstanding and it is a key, but the Gatekeepers didn’t think it was safe enough.”

Dean shook his head. “Cas, you and Chuck told me that only a human from the other side could retrieve-” he looked down at the scepter in Cas’ hand feeling doubtful, “whatever that thing is.”

“We did.” In an instant, Cas had thrust the weapon back at Dean. “Take it. Please. Just take it.”

Dean carefully wrapped his hand around the handle, his fingers brushing Cas’. “You’re entrusting me with this?”

“You must understand, if this is what I think it is, if it gets into the wrong hands, Earth would be destroyed in the blink of an eye.” Cas let his hand hover near Dean’s, a crackling closed circuit, before releasing his hold of the key. “I know you wouldn’t let that happen.” His tone was confident, faithful to Dean still, but his face was a mask of sorrow and anguish.

“Cas, I’m so sorry,” said Dean, unsure of how to console him. “The Gatekeepers - your bosses-”

“Are, as you might say, Sith, not Jedi. I know.” A wide smile suddenly stretched across Cas’ face, eclipsing his hurt. It was something that Dean never thought he’d see, and it took his breath away. He remembered the thought he’d had when they had first met. A grin formed on Dean’s face too, despite everything, but it vanished quickly. Cas continued in a more brisque tone, “I’m going to have to ward you from my kind.”

“How will  _ you _ find me?”

“I won’t.”

“Cas.” The word came quickly and lingered long. Dean had tried to put every ounce of feeling into it that he could.

“It’s okay,” Cas murmured. “When I warded your home against Oathbreakers, I went a little further and warded your car and your workplace, all against both Gatekeepers and Oathbreakers. You invited me into your home which broke the spell’s hold over me so I will still be able to enter your house.” 

“But the other angels?”

“With this new warding, they won’t be able to find you. My protection denies them access to you through any place you frequently visit, and if you go anywhere else, well, they won’t know.”

They had stopped, facing each other, and Cas had raised his hand to place his fingertips on Dean’s chest. 

“This may hurt.”

Dean gasped as he felt a burning sensation sear over his ribs. Despite the pain, he clutched at Cas’ hand, pushing it closer towards his beating heart. After a few seconds, the burning had ceased, but he didn’t let go.

“Dean.”

“Don’t send me away.”

“I can’t make any pr-”      

But Dean couldn’t bear to hear it. He curled his free hand around the back of Cas’ neck and closed the last few inches of space between them. The words were cut short as Dean’s lips met Cas’. For a moment, the everything around Dean froze, including Cas who was tense and unyielding. A flash of panic hit Dean, and he pulled his head back. But before he’d gotten even an inch away, Cas unlocked. He leant in, gently grabbing Dean’s bottom lip in his, and pulled the man back down to him.  

This time, the kiss tasted soft and sweet, and for the first time in long time, Dean felt warmth throughout his entire body. He found his hand moving from the back of Cas’ neck down his jaw, brushing the light stubble on his face. In turn, Cas’ arm hooked around Dean’s waist his fist balling up Dean’s jacket and digging into the small of his back.

As they melted together like two drops of paint, shadows of wings began to flicker behind Dean. The hand that he had trapped against his chest now sank deep into his flesh until it grazed his very soul. 

They broke apart, both panting a little, their noses still brushing across each others’ cheeks, and the heat of their blood flushed across their faces. Dean stared as Cas’ eyes fluttered open. He could see his own eyes reflected back at him.

“You have to promise me.”

“No.”

“Cas-”

“Shh.” Cas had tilted his head away and was now looking wide-eyed at something over Dean’s shoulder. Dean too looked up and then around, and his breath hitched in his throat. The rustlings that had become apparent were echoing in a perfect circle around the pair. Dean released his hold on Cas who promptly spun around to face what was coming at them. He held still, preparing for their foe to step out from the shadow. Dean saw the glint of the silver blade that had dropped from Cas’ sleeve. Finally, the shadows pulled back and revealed them all.

Though the beasts stood on all fours like a gorilla, they towered above Dean. They had long tails covered in sharp spikes, and at the end of each of their feet, three long talons curved. However, it was their faces that most unnerved Dean. They had no eyes, ears, or noses that he could see, just one gaping mouth filled with row upon row of teeth. These teeth and the talons and the spikes were all an aging yellow, contrasting with fur so dark it seemed to consume light.

The circle began to slowly constrict them. There was no way out unless all of these beasts were killed.  

“What do we do?” Dean hissed.

“I can fight them off.”

“Cas…?”

“Do you trust me?” asked Cas urgently.

Dean thought about the key he carried. “Of course. But there’s too many, they’ll tear us to shreds.”

“I know. That’s why I have to send you away.”

“Cas, no!” Dean cried.

But Cas had turned around and shoved him away. The last thing that Dean saw before leaving Heart was Cas’ sorrowful eyes as the beasts closed in on him.  

 

However, when Dean opened his eyes, the little, white house was nowhere to be seen and neither was the lake behind it. Instead, he found himself standing on the edge of a old, steel bridge in the middle of the night. He was clinging onto the railing behind him but his feet were almost half way off the edge. His toes dangled over the muddy water below, and as Dean looked down, his stomach twisted at the sight of the rocky, fast-moving river that was much too far away for comfort. The air around him was brisk, and the quickening of his breath condensed into soft mist below his nose. He tried to turn so that he could clamber to safety but his hand slipped, and he found himself tumbling backwards, falling to the shallow waters below. 

When Dean opened his eyes again he could barely see. His body did not seem to be hurt from the fall, but when Dean tried to move he found that he couldn’t. He realized that his arms were inexplicably tied up above his head. Pale rays of sunshine shone in striations from above him and hit him with a cold light. He grunted. Dean’s feet barely reached the floor, but he used his tiptoes to twist around, trying to see what was out there. To his horror, he discovered that he wasn’t the only one hanging up, but when he called out to the other people, there was no reply. When he opened his mouth to speak, a horrible, musty scent overwhelmed him like a thousand years of dust and poorly preserved bodies. Dean gagged and turned away from the others, only to find himself face to face with one of the most ungodly looking creatures he’d ever seen. It was an almost translucent white, with arms, legs, and fingers longer than any human’s had the right to be. The creature’s face contorted into a screech as it came rushing towards Dean, and it began to tear him to pieces while he screamed. 

Then all of a sudden his lungs were not pulling in air but water. Cold, clammy hands were pulling him down into a lake. Dean could see that he was far under the surface. He wondered if he was back in the same lake as in Rathe, but he quickly dismissed this idea on the account of the much deeper, grey murkiness of this water in comparison to the shallow, blue clarity that the other lake had. Also, there was the fact that, this time, there would be no Cas to save him. As Dean sank further, he wondered what had happen to the angel. However, as he pictured the two of them surrounded by monsters again, he could not see how there was any way Cas could’ve escaped. Finally, Dean hit the bottom of the lake with a thud, displacing the slimy, brown silt around him. The force knocked free the last of his air and replaced it with icy water.    

These nightmares kept coming, flitting before his eyes, yet immersing him in them so deeply that he could not know what was real, if everything was real, or if nothing was at all. Dean died a thousand times, then a thousand more - in a cabin in the woods, by a cold hand he never even saw; safely in a home that wasn’t his, the knife coming from someone he knew; falling through a window, the glass poised around him like a halo; a car he’d never been in, swerving off the road; on a forest path, running from an unseen foe; strange faces in the mirror, abandoned houses, pale children, parking lots, open orchards, back alleys, trees, water, fire, blood, bursting through him, entirely out of his control. 

Then darkness. 

Then there was a searing pain in his shoulder and his side, and a dull ache in his legs and in his arms. Though his eyes could see flashes bursting through the consuming black gloom, Dean could feel that he was suspended over a nothingness that went on for infinity. He could hear screams, but he couldn’t be sure that they weren’t his own. There was no way out. There was no pleasant death that Dean could perceive of to whisk him away as it had before.

Suddenly, when he thought he could lay there no longer, a brilliant, white light pierced through the intermittent flashing and darkness. It held constant, shining over his heart, at first just a pinprick then steadily growing. Another scream reached his ears but this time Dean was sure that it was not his. No human could make such an unearthly sound. The light increased and now covered his face, causing Dean to squint and blink. He thought he saw a flash of familiar blue, but no, that wasn’t possible. But yes! A deep voice reverberated through him, and it was the last voice he’d thought he’d hear but the first one he’d wished for. 

_ Dean,  _ it echoed throughout his head, filling him with hope and despair at the same time,  _ you’ve strayed off the path. You have to go home. Dean. Close your eyes. Think of where you want to be.  _ But I don’t want to go home, Dean thought, I want to be with you, though I don’t know where you are; I don’t know if you’re safe or even alive.  _ Dean,  _ the voice came louder and more urgent repeating itself as if it hadn’t heard him,  _ you have to go home. Close your eyes. Think of your house. Think of your family. Think of your Earth.  _ Dean did as he was told, and the second his eyelids met he fell into a deep and dreamless sleep. 

This time when Dean awoke, laying face up, he was in the exact spot that he and Cas had left. He let his head fall to the side and saw that around him the lawn that he had so painstakingly kept trimmed and green was dead. At any other time he would’ve been furious, but right now it didn’t seem to matter. The grass would grow again anyway.

It took him a full twenty minutes before he was able to move the rest of his limbs again.


	6. Chapter 6

This was it, Cas knew. This was the end. He could feel the hot breath of the beasts ruffle through his hair. He could smell their sweat, and their bloodlust, and the pungent air of their desire to rip him to shreds. He could taste the last seconds of his life on his tongue.

So when he found that he could see nothing but blazing, white light, Cas almost cried out. He blinked and was standing inside a silver office. It was not Naomi’s, but she was there, sitting in front of a desk.

“Welcome back, Castiel, and congratulations. You were successful.”

It took Cas a few moments before the fear of near death had subsided. “I retrieved what you asked,” Cas stated warily. He noticed two other angels in the room, one standing solemnly by the door, and another in the back corner, leaning up against the wall.

There was an awkward silence before Naomi spoke again. “I see we’re at a bit of a stalemate. I know you don’t have the weapon, so you must’ve given it to him. Go and get it back, then bring it to us.”

“But what should I tell Dean?”

“The man?” Naomi said dismissively. “Don’t tell him anything. In fact, you should dispose of him. He knows too much and it’s not like we need him anymore.”

“Kill him?” Cas asked, incredulously. “After all that? After watching over him his whole life and keeping him alive? We were told he was special, were we not?”

“He was a man. We used him. He’s fulfilled his purpose and now we don’t need him anymore.”

Cas couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “Dean is a good man. He’s done everything we’ve asked of him, and this is how we repay him? He helped us keep our world safe from the unleashing of Heart and has expected no reward in return. I won’t hurt him.” 

A deep, rumbling laugh echoed throughout the room, threatening with every reverberation. “Oh, Castiel, you fool,” spoke Uriel, the angel by the door. “Surely you’d have figured it out by now. You know what you took from the bottom of that lake.”

Cas hesitated. He did know, but he had hoped it was not true. “It’s a key,” he said slowly, “not a weapon as you led me to believe. It was our side all along that wanted to open up the worlds, not the Oathbreakers.”

“Oh, this wasn’t all us. Crowley,” Naomi said in reference to one of the few Oathbreakers who held some authority in Heart, “made a deal to help us.” 

“But the monsters tried to kill Dean on Earth, more than once, and again in Rathe.”

“That was when they didn’t know our plan,” explained Naomi. “They only knew that he was important to us, and that made them want him dead. In Rathe, they must’ve tried to double-cross us. We expected this, of course, but had faith that you would handle it.”

“How can you do this?” Cas was at a loss. “Releasing the contents of Heart into Earth would cause chaos. Millions would die.”

“Chaos is good, Castiel,” urged Uriel. “It can only work in our favor.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Castiel!” The slightly nasal voice in the corner spoke up, “after all I’d heard about your triumphs and leadership, I’m shocked to see in front of me a simple, stubborn foot-soldier. Are you completely blind? Surely you can see our grand plan here.” 

“No. I don’t. You yourself say that I am a ‘simple foot-soldier’. I am not smart and I do not see the bigger picture. So please. Tell me.”

“Power, Castiel!” Zachariah exclaimed, “Chaos breeds it. Open the gates between the worlds, let them merge, and the poor pathetic humans won’t know what to do. It’ll be anarchy, slaughter, and they won’t know who to turn to. That’s where we come in. We save the humans. We rescue them and together we defeat the monsters. Then the humans have no choice but to trust us. We would be able to do with them whatever we wanted.”

“Does Crowley know about your planned betrayal?”

“Of course not,” Naomi scoffed.  

“We’re killing two birds with one stone,” Uriel said. “We rid ourselves of the majority of these pathetic humans, while also giving ourselves an excuse to finally exterminate every last Oathbreaker and perhaps even those foul beasts that reside in Heart too.” 

Cas could only stare in horror at his three brethren, so intent on death. “Why did you bring me here? Why didn’t you just leave me in Heart?”

“Don’t be foolish,” Uriel snapped. “We know how well you’ve protected that key. Only you can get to it, for now.”

“Are you with us, Castiel?” Naomi asked in a kind voice that Cas knew was just a fake manipulation. “Will you bring the key to us? And kill the human?”

The emotion that Rathe had restored to him still congested the rational thought that they expected him to have. He could still feel Dean’s hand in his, and everywhere he had come into contact with the man buzzed furiously. He could still taste Dean on his tongue, barring the betrayal from passing through his lips. “Never,” Cas replied, clenching his jaw. There was dead silence then Zachariah sighed.

Uriel spoke first. “Lock him up,” he said, as he snapped his fingers. Four Gatekeepers suddenly surrounded Cas who struggled, but was overwhelmed and could do nothing as he was dragged out of the room.  

“If you change your mind, Castiel,” he heard Zachariah call out, “You know where to find us. If not, then I guess we’ll just have to wait until the Rathe is bled out of you.”


	7. Chapter 7

After a week of being back on Earth, the emptiness of his house had become suffocating to Dean. Even his work had become stale, and though he laughed at Jo’s jokes and excitedly discussed designs with Ellen, the happiness didn’t stick. Finally, once the feeling of his life not being enough became too overwhelming for Dean, he jumped into his car one morning and did the only thing he could think of doing.

It took him the better part of two days to drive to California. Dean only stopped for two hours the first night to take a nap in a rest stop off some deserted highway. However, by the second night he was tired enough to check into a motel. Even still, he didn’t sleep much. Whenever he closed his eyes, blue ones would open up inside his mind reminding him of who he’d left behind. 

He had left the scepter in a small safe he kept under his bed, even though he knew that if either the angels or demons got through the warding, a thin layer of steel would change nothing. There was a ‘keep it secret, keep it safe’ joke in there somewhere, but Dean didn’t have the heart to make it.

Dean had called Sam to notify him of his arrival, but had only reached his voicemail. When he knocked on the front door of Sam’s house, Jess answered. 

“Dean! Hey, we got your message. What’s up; are you ok?”

“Yeah. I... uh…” he wasn’t sure how to explain everything so he ended lamely, “just didn’t know where else to go.”

But Jess wasn’t convinced. “So you drove more than half way across the country. This must be pretty big.”

“Sorta. Is Sam home?”

“Yeah, he is. Come on in.” Jess opened the door wider and stepped back. Dean walked into the house and called out for his brother. Sam came rushing down the stairs from the back of the house and pulled Dean into a firm hug.

“Hey, man. What’s going on? Mom’s been worried sick, she said you’ve hardly been returning any of her calls.”

“I’ve just been,” Dean hesitated; he obviously couldn’t tell Sam that he’d been transported to a new dimension, “busy.” Sam raised an eyebrow, and Dean blurted out the first excuse he could think of. “I’ve been writing a novel.”

Jess had finally caught up with them. “A novel?” she asked. 

Dean nodded.

“Well, that’s great, isn’t it?” Sam cut in. “I mean, it’s something that you’ve wanted to do for a while.”

“It is. I’m, I’ve finally done it. Am doing it,” said Dean, his lies twisting like snakes in his mouth.

Sam gestured toward the dining room. “Well, in that case, why don’t we sit down for the dinner that I think is done now, and you can tell us all about it.”

Over dinner, Dean told his story as accurately as possible without giving away that it was about him. He pretended that his ‘character’ was female and tried really hard not to make her sound like a self-insert. Which she was, because this story was an autobiography. But Dean was counting on the fact that there was so much fantasy that there was no way any of it could possibly have happened.

Sam and Jess seemed interested, but Dean wondered if they couldn’t see right through him. They asked questions about the story and actively avoided asking him anything about his life right now. 

From inside the guest room he was sleeping in, Dean could hear them whispering late into the night. 

 

He didn’t know whether it had taken Jess three days to figure it out or whether she had known they day he’d arrived and had waited for three days to say something. She, Sam, and Dean were sitting in the living room together.

“So how long have you been in love?” she asked.

Dean fumbled, “What? What do you mean? Who?”

“You, Dean. You’re in love. That’s why you drove a couple thousand miles just to see us.”

Dean almost tried to counter with his story about the book but even in his head it sounded like complete bullshit. Luckily, Sam did it for him.

“What are you talking about, Jess?”

“Can’t you see it? He’s got this itch, this restlessness, and he just wants to scratch it, but it won’t go away so he drives down to us. You thought the itch would go away, but distance has just made it worse.”

“Do I have to have a reason to see my baby brother?” Dean attempted to sidestep, but his voice was shaking miserably.

“Oh my God,” said Sam, finally catching on. “You are! Who?”

“Guys, it’s not like that.”

“Oh, Dean, I’m sorry,” Jess said. “You don’t know if it’s reciprocated.”

Dean shook his head, dropping all pretences. “No, it’s not that. We were together, but… but I lost him. And it’s not even that either, it’s just that I don’t think it will ever be able to work. I just don’t know if I have it in me. And besides, we’re so different.”

“Well you know they always say opposites attract.” Jess tried to sound upbeat.

“Wait, have it in you?” Sam asked. “What does that mean?”

“Dad was right. He always is. I’m just too afraid to commit to something that strong.”

“He’s not right, Dean. He just says those things to provoke you, and now you’re buying into it,” Sam argued.

“I’m not,” said Dean feebly.

“Then what is it really?” 

“I guess I’m just afraid that any marriage of mine will fail like Mom and Dad’s almost did, and this time there won’t be a car crash to set things right again,” admitted Dean. This crash was the one that John had gotten himself into when Dean was fourteen. After John came back from his month in the hospital, the family was brought back together as though nothing ever happened. There’s nothing like a near death experience to remind them all what’s most important. 

Sam had gone silent. 

Jess commented, “It sounds like he really means something to you.”

“He’s everything I’m not.”

“Dean, if he means that much then the past be damned.” Sam brought his palm down onto the arm of the couch he was sitting in. “You have to move on with your own life, and you can’t base it all on trying to be who our parents were not.”

“Yeah, Dean! And if you love him as much as I think you do, none of that bad stuff will happen.”

“So you’re saying I should get him back?”

“Yeah!” they both chorused. 

“I have to get him back,” Dean said, nodding to himself, his voice becoming more resolute and confident. “I have to get him back. I’m gonna go get him back.”

He stood up, the chair scraping back on the tile floor, and Sam stood up with him, a confused but tentative smile on his face. Dean walked over to him, pulling his brother into a firm embrace and clapping him on the back.

“Thanks, Sammy.” 

“Hey, you’re gonna keep in touch more, right? You’ve been a bit distant lately and it’s worrying Mom.” Dean let go of Sam and looked up at him, but he did not quite meet Sam’s anxious eyes.

“Yeah, course. I’ll call every day.”

“You take care, Dean,” said Jess, as Dean walked around to give her a hug too. 

“You too. Thanks for... y’know,” Dean gestured, “putting up with me.” He gave them both a last wave goodbye as he walked out the door leaving the couple still standing in their living room.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Dean didn’t even make it through Nevada before realizing how hopeless everything was. He had been so determined to get Cas back, that he hadn’t thought about how he would actually do it. It seemed impossible. He couldn’t travel through the dimensions, he couldn’t go back and save Cas, and he didn’t even have a way to talk to-

_ I can only see what you’re thinking about me. _

It was last chance. Dean swiftly pulled over his car and climbed out. The sky was dark, but he could clearly see the stars. There wasn’t a tree for miles. Everything seemed so open and frightening, as though if he were to jump he would float away and the empty space would consume him. It truly made Dean feel small.

The Nevada ground crunched beneath his feet as Dean made his way further out into the sea of sand and sagebrush. Once he’d reached the right spot, Dean flung his arms out, looking up at the sky and cried out.  

“Cas...

“Castiel,” he amended, incase that made any difference. “You told me that you could receive thoughts about you so, I don’t know if you’re… If you’re out there and if you can hear me, but if you are, then maybe you’ll get this.  

“I’m just gonna get right into it. I feel… I feel like the moon. Always tied to the Earth, always has been. Thought it’d stay tied forever. And then some greater celestial object came too close, now the moon is drifting away, pulled by the gravity of this new planet. Pulling the moon so far from Earth that it can’t get back, pulling it out into the void of space then disappearing. Leaving the moon falling, and I’m falling, and you’re not there to catch me.”

The last words came tumbling out of his mouth and Dean had to stop to catch his breath. His voice was already feeling hoarse. He bent down to pick up some sand and squeezed it tightly in his palm, putting all of his frustration into it. He wondered if he’d put enough pressure on the sand to make it hold a shape, but when he opened his hand, the lump collapsed, slipped through his fingers, and cascaded back down to the ground. He continued, softer this time: 

“When we first met you talked about the wind and how it couldn’t be seen. Well time is like that too. I hate how it passes. I hate how time passes me by. It’s like watching the fuel gauge on your car slowly drop, knowing you only have one tank of gas and a million more miles before you reach home. I wasn’t paying attention for the first quarter of a tank because, well, who is? But then it dropped suddenly, like I was driving uphill with a ten ton trailer attached to the back. 

“There’s a gap in all my family’s photo albums from when I was nine to when I was fifteen. I feel like I lost some of the best years of my life, and not those six years, but the ones after. I never was a child, and I struggled with that all throughout my young adult life. Now I’m an old man stuck trying to remember when I stood a little straighter, when I smiled a little wider, when I laughed a little louder.”

Dean looked up at the night sky and blinked a few times as memories came flooding through his mind. Out here in the wilderness there were no cities even remotely nearby, and thousands of stars sparkled at him. The sky was teeming with them, to the point that Dean couldn’t even distinguish the constellations. The memories were both good and bad, and the reconciliation of the two into gray matter felt impossible and unjust. A shooting star blazed above him, leaving a trail that, from Dean’s perspective, was a couple inches long. Another comet left its mark, and then another, and another. At one point, Dean was certain that he’d actually seen the ISS lazily speed by. How could good people do bad things and bad people good? And if the good people did bad things could they still deserve happiness? There was a strangely blank part of the sky near the horizon. A storm, perhaps. He tried to remember a time when things were more simple.  

“I wish I could go back to who I was before you. I wish I could go back, even further, to before I grew up, before I had to be an adult for Sam’s sake. I wish I could've been that child longer; I wish I could still be that child.

“I’m not a hero, but you made me feel like one. You made me feel like my life was worth something, like I was important.

“But maybe I’m better off on my own,” Dean choked out those last words, “without you. You’re more than I can ever be, Cas. You’re tank is never less than full and your home is only one door over.

Warm wind rustled Dean’s hair. A sudden flash in the starless part of the sky proved him right. It was a thunderstorm. Yet as the lightning began to berate the distant earth, no sound of thunder reached Dean’s ears. All he could hear was a roaring silence.

“This is probably pointless. Hell, man, you’re probably dead.” There. He’d said it. He hoped desperately that the coagulation of the words in his mouth wouldn’t actually make it true. 

“I just wanted you to know-” 

But Dean couldn’t finish. He dropped to his knees and swayed in the clear night air. His eyes gently closed shut, sending the tears that had built up rolling down his face. 

He stayed out there until the morning, hovering between sleep and prayer.

As the sun began to rise, the stars melted away into a fresh, blue sky. Dean had never been afraid of the dark. In fact, in the morning, he always missed the clarity that the twilight brought, because though the light may illuminate what’s down here, it conceals the far greater magnitude of what’s out there.

Dust and sand had been blown up Dean’s jeans, and it all fell out in a cloud as he stood up. His footsteps sent more dust billowing up into the air. Dean’s face was chapped, and his lips were cracking, and the first thing he did when he’d climbed back into the Impala was grab a bottle of water from under the passenger side seat. He drained the bottle, threw it into the back, and started up the engine. 

Cas wouldn’t be able to find him if he wasn’t at home.


	8. Chapter 8

Cas wouldn’t be able to get anywhere at all behind these bars. The dull gray and dirty walls of the cell were a stark contrast to the usual silver spotlessness of the upper levels. 

Everything had gone wrong. The Gatekeepers were planning on hurting people, he was locked up, and he wasn’t even sure if he’d gotten Dean out. The way the man had looked at him before Cas had thrown him back to Earth, so desperate and betrayed, was… fading from his memory. What he’d felt as he had made the decision to send Dean away was fading too. Images of the key were, instead, floating around his mind. But soon those images were too being replaced by a gentle prodding that slowly turned into a prolonged ache. Dean, Cas knew, and he was thinking about him. Cas opened up his mind and let the rush of the man’s thought come crashing into his.  

He saw himself, this time a perfect replica, though he thought his eyes were still a little too blue. He heard a whisper, growing ever louder, until it was being shouted over the thoughts in his head and drowning out any other noise.  _ I love you,  _ it echoed through the recesses of his mind.

He saw a green man packing away his shy worship in despair.

_ I love you. _

He saw the field of pale gold shivers being cut and baled for hay.

_ I love you. _

He saw a full, harvest moon, cosmically bright yet shrinking and dimming.

_ I love you. _

He saw a playground, where empty swings creaked and forgotten see-saws groaned.

_ I love you. _

He saw a great lake all dried up and the remnants of an old white house that stood by it.

_ I love you. _

But when Cas opened his eyes, all he could see was the cold, dark bars of the cell he was locked in. The joy he felt at knowing that Dean was safely home felt numbed by his own captivity.

Time didn’t seem to exist to him. He wasn’t sure if he had stayed in his prison for hours or days or years. No one else was there with him, and nobody ever came to visit. So Cas immediately tensed at the sound of a door unlocking. He was sitting in a corner, facing the front of his cell, and his eyes, though they appeared shut, were barely cracked open. There was nothing else to do but prepare for the worst.

A wave of relief washed over him when Hannah stepped in front of his cell. Yet he was still apprehensive over her sudden appearance. Cas started to ask her what she was doing here, but she just shushed him and pulled out a set of keys. The first one that she put into the lock worked, and the door sprung open. Hannah beckoned for Cas to leave, and once he had, she closed the door and locked it back up. 

They left the little jail from the way they came in, but instead of turning left to go back up into the upper levels, Hannah turned them right, and they went further into the dungeons. She took some complex turns that led them into darkly lit corridors and twisted them round and round in circles. Even Cas had no idea where they were. Suddenly, Hannah stopped next to a door and turned to face Cas. 

She whispered quickly, her eyes darting about, “This is a back door. Not many know about it, so if you go through you’ll be able to escape without anyone noticing. You have to get out of here, Castiel. Leave.” Her tone was urgent, more pleading than commanding. She was risking her life for him.

“What are you doing? If they find out you released me they’ll lock you up too.”

“Rumors have been flying around about a key; are they true?” Hannah’s eyes were wide. “Does Naomi really intend to merge Heart and Earth?”

“She does,” Cas confirmed. “Zachariah and Uriel are with her too.”

She nodded, her face now set in fierce determination. “Then I had to get you out. You have to stop this.”

“But how? I can’t take out three much stronger Gatekeepers by myself.” 

“What I said to you last time still stands. There are those out there who are still loyal to you.”

Cas remembered. He had thought it odd at the time, but it made all too much sense now. The other Gatekeepers had seen something suspicious from the start. However, he knew that they wouldn’t act without a leader. “Get them prepared. I’ll talk to you again when I’m ready.”

“When will that be?”

“Soon. I have some unfinished business.”

A curious look crossed Hannah’s face which was Cas’ cue to leave. He knew that he would have no good answers to the questions she would ask, or at least, not ones that she would understand. 

The bright light hit Cas as he stepped through the door, causing him to squint and blink. But once he’d regained his eyesight, he stepped out of the shadow of the Gatekeeper’s headquarters and took off. There was only one place he needed to be.


	9. Chapter 9

Dean had taken the long way home and had returned to his house two days after his breakdown in the desert. It was late in the night when he stepped through the door, but the moon was just bright enough to illuminate the man standing in the corner of his living room. The trenchcoat was a dead giveaway, but Dean still flicked on the lights before he allowed himself to believe. It was Cas.

“Hello, Dean.” 

“You’re alive,” was the first thing that Dean could manage to say with his heart beating in his mouth. “How?”

“My kind rescued me. They weren’t pleased when I didn’t have the key.”

Dean noticed the switch in nouns. “So… you were right. It is a key.” His heart now dropped down to his stomach and an icy chill caught him.

“It is. It’s exactly what I thought it would be. The Gatekeepers mean to use it to unleash Heart so that they can ‘restore order’ and subjugate the humans. They want me to bring back the key to them, and,” Cas took a deep breath and looked Dean squarely in the eye. His voice lowered to a whisper. “And kill you.”

There was silence for a moment as it sank in. “Cas. I-”

Cas’ voice cracked. “Don’t speak.” He raised his hand mechanically and pointed it at Dean. Cas’ hand shook as fingers began to curl.

Dean gasped as he felt a hand plunge into his chest, through his ribs, and grab ahold of his heart. He could feel the hand wrapping its fingers around his beating heart and ever so slowly begin to squeeze. He grunted in pain, clawing at his chest through his shirt but to no avail.  

“Cas,” he croaked, “stop. Please. This isn’t you.”

“Give me the sceptre,” he demanded. His voice, though lacking in emotion, was trembling.

“You made me promise to keep it safe,” Dean rasped, the pain in his chest radiating outward, “and that’s what I’m gonna do, even if it means keeping it safe from you.”

Cas’ eyes flared. “Stop talking! Just give it to me!”  

With a shallow breath and the last of his energy, Dean uttered, “Kill me and you’ll never find it.”

The reaction was almost instantaneous. Cas dropped his hand and turned away, exhaling a shuddering gasp. Dean gulped in relief and massaged his aching chest.

“What the fuck, Cas?” he snapped once he’d caught his breath back. “I thought we were on the same side. I thought you said I was important.” Dean snorted, disgust staining his face. “Should’ve know that wasn’t true.”

Cas’ stoic look melted, and he twisted back to face the man, leaning in towards him. “You are important, Dean.” He changed his tune. “We can destroy the key, or hide it. But you need to be with me on this.”

Dean barked a harsh laugh. “So important that they told you to just kill me? So important that you would actually go through with it?”

“I’m trying to fight this, Dean, but Earth is draining my defiance and my free will. Get the key and come with me back to Rathe, before that Cas has gone again,” he begged. “We’ll figure this out together.” 

“No!” Dean snapped. “I’m no one, being forced to do something I don’t understand, to fix something I was never a part of. Hell, if I hadn’t done what you asked, if we hadn’t retrieved the key like golden fucking retrievers, we wouldn’t be in this mess.”

Neither of them spoke, but Dean could’ve sworn he’d heard Cas grinding his teeth. Dean knew that what he’d said was true, and that they wouldn’t be in this mess in the first place if he and Cas had never met. Where would he be if he hadn’t met Cas? 

He didn’t know how long they stood there, as if in a trance. Dean feared moving, in case Cas changed his mind about killing him, but knew that their time was running out.

“I prayed to you,” he said, unafraid to confess this time.

“I know. I… saw.” Cas replied quietly. Dean could almost see the emotion leaving him, like blood from an open wound, like sand through an hourglass. Cas continued, “I understand now why you didn’t like me thinking of myself as more human. I am immortal. I can’t comprehend wanting more time or wanting to redo what I’ve done. 

“As for the other part, it would never work. You’re only a small blip in my lifetime; I have lived a thousand ages, and I will live a thousand more.” Cas tilted his head fractionally, his eyes widening, and his voice straining, as if he was pushing out the last dregs of emotion. “I won't grow old, but I will watch you die. What I’ve grown to feel for you in the last few days - I can’t imagine how that would be magnified over many years. But it would be nothing to what I’d feel in the millennia after you are gone.

“I can’t let that happen. I need to go back to my world and right the wrong that the corrupt are doing.” Cas’ voice, Dean noticed, had finally turned cold. It reminded him of the first time they had met. The topic of their conversation had circled back too. “Give me the key,” Cas commanded.

“Don’t do this,” Dean pleaded, one last time.

“Why?” 

“Because I love you,” Dean stated simply. He didn’t know what else he could say. “And I think you love me too, even if you don't know it, even if you can't feel it now.”

“I did feel it: In Rathe,” Cas whispered, tearing his eyes away from Dean, “but not here.” His voice grew hard and assertive again, but this time full of passion. “Come with me, come back to Rathe. Stay with me there forever.” 

“And leave my family behind? My life, my work, my home? To become the monster I was?” It was almost tempting. It almost seemed worth it. If he could control the bloodlust, it would only fuel his passion. He and Cas could conquer the world, all of them, if need be.

“You see?” said Cas triumphantly. “This whole fantasy of yours - it’s preposterous.”

“But we were perfect!” Dean cried, knowing in his heart that one huge fault stopped this statement from ringing true. “We were meant to be,” he said weakly.

A moment of silence held before Cas voiced the words they were both thinking: “Just in the wrong worlds.”

Dean clenched his hands into fists and bit his lip, stifling the tears that were hovering in his sight. He heard Cas take a deep and dangerous breath.

“This needs to end,” said Cas. “I need the key.”

“I don’t think you should have it.”

“Dean!”

“It shouldn’t be in the hands of an angel, and besides, what if you turn back into your order taking self and hand it over to your bosses?”

“Don’t you trust me?” Cas asked threateningly. “Do you know what I’ve done for you? I disobeyed my orders, I was imprisoned but I escaped, and if I go back they’ll kill me. And I did this all for you.”

“For me? You didn’t do this for one insignificant little human. You did it because you know it’s the right thing to do.” 

“Then what’s your problem? What is it really?”

“I can’t give it to you because…” Dean weighed his own mortality, heavy in Cas’ hands. He thought of Rathe, and of the magic that that world still held. He thought of Heart and the monsters it contained, and he thought of the destruction of the two worlds were it to be released. But most of all he thought of the blue eyes standing in front of him, the wings of a midnight sky, the ignorance of Dean’s terrible jokes, the dry humor, the warm hand in his, the gorgeous smile, the safety from the cold, the apocalyptic trust, the soft lips, and the everlasting faith in the man who, in the whole scheme of things, meant nothing, all anchored against his will. Dean finished, “because if I do you’ll have no reason to ever come back.”

The room was deathly quiet for a moment before Cas, in a cold, emotionless voice, the last of Rathe finally vanishing, replied, “Then keep it. It’s safer here with you anyway.” And with that he turned away from Dean and walked out of the house, the screen door creaking as it closed. Dean stood rooted to the floor boards. He croaked out a “Cas” as the angel was leaving, but it made no difference. He willed himself to follow Cas, but as he too walked out the door, Dean heard the familiar rush of wings and saw nothing but the open water ahead of him. The early morning dew soaked Dean’s pants as he fell to his knees calling out Cas’ name one last time. Staring at the grass below him, he strained his ears to hear the flutter of feathers signaling the return of the man he loved but all he heard was the gentle lapping of timeless waves against his neighbor’s dock. Castiel was gone.

**Author's Note:**

> While I consider this to be a complete story, I definitely left it open enough that I could write a sequel (with a happier/more resolved ending). It mostly depends on interest and if I can figure out what happens next!


End file.
